LITTLE 
ALIENS 


■By 

MYRA  KELLY 


Avery  Architectural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 
Gift  of  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


http://archive.org/details/littlealiensOOkell 


Together  they  retrieved  it 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


BY 

MYRA  KELLY 

AUTHOR  OF  "LITTLE  CITIZENS,"  "  WARDS  OF  LIBERTY," 
"THE  GOLDEN  SEASON,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1910 


Copyright,  1910,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  April,  1910 


To 

D.  M.  R. 


AC- 

HI0*} 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

"  Every  Goose  a  Swan  "   1 

"  Games  in  Gardens  "   25 

"  A  Brand  from  the  Burning  99    .    .    .  63 

Friends    .    ,   107 

The  Magic  Cape   143 

"  Bailey's  Babies  "   163 

"  The  Origin  of  Species  "   195 

The  Etiquette  of  Yetta   227 

A  Bent  Twig   261 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Together  they  retrieved  it  Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

"  I  guess  games  in  gardens  ain't  so  awful  healthy 

for  somebody,"  said  Yetta  32 

"  I  never  in  my  world  seen  how  they  all  makes  "  .  60 

"  I  must  refuse  to  translate  it  to  you  "  .    .    .  .70 

She  staggered  back  into  a  chair,  fortunately  of 
heavy  architecture,  and  stared  at  the  appari- 
tion before  her  140 

Patrick  was  making  discipline  impossible   .    .    .  178 

"  What  you  think  we  got  to  our  house  ?  "  .    .  .198 

Rosie  threw  herself  into  a  very  ecstasy  of  her  art .  246 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN' 


N  ideal  is  like  a  golden  pheasant. 


As  soon  as  the  hunter  comes  up 
with  one  he  kills  it  in  more  or  less  bloody 
fashion,  tears  its  feathers  off,  absorbs 
what  he  can  of  it,  and  then  sets  out,  re- 
freshed, in  pursuit  of  another.  Or  if, 
being  a  tender-hearted  hunter,  he  tries  to 
keep  it  in  a  cage  to  tame  it,  to  teach  it,  to 
show  it  to  his  friends,  it  very  soon  loses 
its  original  character  so  that  beholders 
disparagingly  exclaim:  "Why,  it's  only 
a  little  brown  hen!  Hardly  worth  the 
trouble  of  hunting." 

But  among  the  pheasant  and  the  trout 
of  the  ideal  hunting-fields  the  true  rela- 
tion between  home  and  school  flits  ever 
along  the  horizon,  a  very  sea-serpent. 
Every  one  has  heard  of  it.    Some  have 


3 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

pursued  it.  Some  even  vow  they  have 
seen  it.  Almost  any  one  is  ready  to  de- 
scribe it.  Expeditions  have  gone  forth  in 
search  of  it,  and  have  come  back  empty- 
handed  or  with  the  haziest  of  kodak  films. 
And  the  most  conservative  of  insurance 
companies  would  consider  it  a  safe  " risk." 

In  every-day  and  ordinary  conditions 
this  relation  between  home  and  school  is 
really  a  question  of  mother  and  teacher, 
with  the  child  as  its  stamping-ground. 
Two  very  busy  women,  indifferent,  hostile, 
or  strangers  to  each  other,  are  engaged  in 
the  formulated  and  unformulated  educa- 
tion of  the  child.  To  the  mother  this 
child  is  her  own  particular  Mary  or  Peter. 
To  the  teacher  it  is  the  whole  generation, 
of  which  Peter  and  Mary  are  such  tiny 
parts. 

The  ideal  teacher  is  as  wise  as  Solomon, 
as  impartial  as  the  telephone  directory,  as 
untiring  as  a  steam-engine,  as  tender  as  a 
4 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 

sore  throat,  as  patient  as  a  glacier,  as  im- 
movable as  truth,  as  alert  as  a  mongoose, 
and  as  rare  as  a  hen's  tooth.  But  her 
most  important  qualification  is  the  power 
to  combine  her  point  of  view  with  the  pa- 
rental one,  and  to  recognize  and  provide 
for  the  varieties  of  character,  tempera- 
ment, mentality,  and  physical  well-being 
of  the  children  intrusted  to  her  care. 

The  average  teacher — nearly  as  elusive 
as  the  ideal — is,  to  a  surprising  and  ever- 
increasing  extent,  learning  to  do  this.  It 
is,  in  fact,  a  very  large  part  of  the  law  and 
the  prophets  in  modern  pedagogy.  The 
teacher  is  expected  to  know,  and  she  gen- 
erally does  know,  what,  in  hospital  par- 
lance, is  called  the  "history"  of  her  pupils, 
and  the  newer  schools  are  equipped  with 
apparatus  for  making  thorough  physical 
examinations  upon  which  the  pupil's  cur- 
riculum will  largely  depend. 

As  rare  perhaps  as  the  dodo-bird  is  the 
5 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

mother  who  takes  an  intelligent  and  help- 
ful interest  in  the  school  life  of  her  off- 
spring. She  generally  regards  the  school 
as  a  safe  house  of  detention,  a  sort  of  day 
nursery  of  larger  growth.  Mrs.  O'Rourkc 
will  send  Tim  and  Pat  and  Biddy  and 
Jimmy  and  Mike  and  Delia,  so  that  she 
may  have  leisure  to  take  care  of  the  twins 
and  the  baby,  and  to  do  the  washing; 
while  Mrs.  Fitz- Jones  will  send  Robert 
Albert  Walter  Fitz- John  Fitz- Jones,  so 
that  she  may  be — to  quote  Browning, 
and  since  he's  dead  whatever  he  wrote 
must  be  considered  proper — "safe  in  her 
corset  lacing,"  ere  she  sallies  out  to 
bridge.  Occasionally  the  two  powers  for 
good  and  evil  in  the  child's  world  meet. 
A  large  mother  will  drag  a  reluctant  boy 
to  school,  and  loudly  bewail  herself  for 
that  she  can  do  nothing  with  him.  He 
has  been  dismissed  as  unteachable  by  an- 
other teacher. 

6 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 


"He  ain't,  so  to  speak,  bad,  miss.  He's 
just  naturally  ugly  an'  stoopid.  Look  at 
him  now,"  and  she  directs  the  general 
attention  to  the  wri things  of  her  victim. 
"Would  you  think  I  just  washed  and 
combed  him  an'  came  around — leavin' 
my  housework,  too — to  ask  you  to  try 
him?  He  don't  appreciate  nothin'  I 
do  for  him.  Just  naturally  ugly  and 
stoopid." 

It  may  take  a  week  to  undo  the  effects 
of  this  introduction  and  to  gain  the  lit- 
tle chap's  confidence.  Then  the  teacher 
wheedles  him  through  the  physical  exami- 
nation and  seeks  further  speech  with  the 
mother. 

"Your  little  boy — "  she  will  begin. 

"He's  been  botherin'  you,  too,  most 
likely.  Him  and  me  will  have  a  settlin' 
this  afternoon  " 

"No,  not  that,  please.  I  hardly  know 
how  to  tell  you.  I'm  afraid  you  have — 
7 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


we  all  have — been  misjudging  him.  But 
have  you  ever  had  his  eyes  examined  ?" 
"What  fur?" 

"His  sight.    He  is — I  hope  you  will  be 
strong  and  brave  about  it — very  nearly 
blind  in  his  left  eye,  and  the  right  is 
.  affected,  too." 

It  has,  on  several  occasions,  been  my 
unhappy  duty  to  make  some  such  an- 
nouncement, and  never  has  it  been  re- 
ceived twice  in  the  same  way.  Some 
ladies  entirely  disbelieve,  and  set  it  down 
to  the  natural  officiousness  of  teachers — 
"buttin'  in  where  they  ain't  got  no  call." 
Others  will  fall  away  into  hysterics.  Yet. 
others  will  remark  that  their  own  eyes 
were  unsatisfactory  in  earlier  stages :  "It's 
just  growin',  I  guess.  I  outgrew  the 
trouble  before  I  was  twelve."  One  mother 
accepted  the  facts  frankly,  took  the  child 
to  an  oculist,  bought  the  glasses  he  pre- 
scribed, and  applied  the  drops  he  recom- 
8 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 

mended,  until  she  inadvertently  used  the 
dropper  to  fill  her  fountain-pen.  Soon 
the  boy  lost  his  glasses,  and  the  incident 
was  closed. 

Ears  and  teeth,  tonsils  and  adenoids, 
frequently  furnish  stumbling-blocks  to 
education,  but  the  teacher  who  reports 
them  to  the  home  authorities  does  so  at 
the  risk  of  wasting  her  time,  or  of  being 
accused  of  causing  or  inventing  the  con- 
ditions. Recently  the  boards  of  education 
in  the  larger  cities  have  been  legislating 
for  appropriations  to  be  applied  to  free 
glasses,  free  dentistry,  free  professional 
services  of  all  kinds  to  the  children  of  the 
public  schools.  And  the  gratitude  of  the 
parents — whose  duties  are  being  attended 
to — takes  fearful  and  wonderful  forms. 

Philosophers,  in  their  slow  and  dodder- 
ing way,  may  question  the  exact  part 
played  by  heredity  in  the  formation  of 
human  character.  Not  so  the  mother. 
9 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

She  has  reduced  the  problem  to  a  formula. 
All  that  is  bad,  hateful,  and  spiteful  in 
the  child  is  the  direct  contribution  of  his 
father  or  his  father's  house.  All  that  is 
appealing,  lovable,  interesting,  and  most 
especially  all  that  is  "cute,"  is  directly  in- 
herited from  the  female  side.  The  only 
exception  to  this  rule  is  the  half-orphan. 
In  his  case  one  or  two  good  qualities  may 
be  inherited  from  the  deceased  parent. 

Once  I  taught  a  Gwendolin.  She  was 
a  peculiarly  abominable  individual,  as, 
poets  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  a 
child  may  sometimes  be.  The  class  was 
large,  the  school  was  a  public  one,  and 
the  curriculum  prescribed  from  on  high. 
There  was  no  time  for  private  instructions, 
and  Gwendolin  lagged  far  in  the  rear. 
She  was  late  by  habit;  lazy  by  nature; 
and  tearful  by  policy  and  experience.  I 
spent  hours  which  should  have  been  de- 
voted to  the  common  good  in  setting 
10 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 

down  Gwendolen's  tardiness,  listening  to 
her  excuses,  and  drying  her  tears.  Fi- 
nally I  sent  for  the  mother,  and  a  large, 
blonde,  lackadaisical  person  responded  to 
my  call.  She  came,  contrary  to  regula- 
tions, during  class  hours,  and  Gwendolin 
promptly  began  to  howl  at  sight  of  her. 
It  is,  by  the  way,  noted  by  most  teachers 
and  explained  by  few  parents,  that  the 
sight  of  a  face  from  home  will  generally 
produce  hysterics. 

Well,  I  allowed  Mrs.  Marks  to  undo  the 
effect  of  her  appearance,  and  with  Gwen- 
dolin almost  buried  in  the  exuberances 
of  the  maternal  costume  and  figure,  she 
proceeded  to  explain  that  dear  Gwendolin 
was  always  deliberate.  It  was  her  nat- 
ure. We  all,  she  hoped,  were  entitled 
to  our  natures.  Gwendolin's  dear  father 
was  always  late  for  breakfast,  and  they 
never  did,  by  any  chance,  see  the  first  act 
of  a  play.  She  thought  she  would  step 
11 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

around  and  explain  this  to  me,  knowing 
that  I  would  make  allowances  for  the 
sweet  child.  "For  I  always  tell  her," 
she  beamed  on  me,  "that  her  dear  teacher 
would  rather  have  her  late  every  day  in 
the  year  than  ruin  her  stomach  by  eating 
too  quickly."  And  as  to  her  crying,  well, 
Mrs.  Marks  opined,  it  was  a  very  strong 
commentary  on  the  manners  and  natures 
of  the  other  children  in  the  class.  Of 
course  Gwendolin  cried.  Her  mother 
cried.  On  the  slightest  provocation. 
Never  could  help  it.  Never  hoped  to  be 
able  to  help  it.  Why,  it  was  only  that 
morning  that  Mr.  Marks  had  remarked 
that  any  one  who  cried  over  the  news- 
paper should  wait  until  after  breakfast  to 
read  it. 

I  controlled  my  true  feelings  sufficiently 
to  ask  her  what  effect  an  epidemic  of 
Gwendolin's  little  characteristics  would 
have  upon  my  class.    I  urged  her  imagi- 
12 


"EVEftY  GOOSE  A  SWAN 


nation  to  picture  fifty  children  late  every 
morning  because  their  fifty  fathers  always 
missed  the  first  act  of  a  play,  and  fifty 
voices  always  raised  in  howls  because  fifty 
mothers  wept  upon  one  hundred  poached 
eggs  on  toast. 

"Oh,  but  dear  me,"  purred  Mrs. 
Marks,  as  she  heaved  herself  to  the 
perpendicular,  shedding  Gwendolin,  a 
pocket-book,  a  handkerchief,  and  a  fan 
— "  oh,  but  dear  me,  my  sweet  Gwendolin 
is  such  an  exceptional  child." 

There  is  another  class  of  parent  from 
whom  teachers  suffer  much.  It  gener- 
ally has  but  one  child,  and  that  child  is 
generally  a  pitiful,  conscientious,  earnest 
little  creature  in  sombre  hair  ribbons  and 
"Comfort"  shoes.  Very  frequently  this 
parent  has  been,  in  some  prehistoric  age,  a 
teacher  of  mathematics  in  a  high-school. 
Now,  a  spiritualistic  seance  at  which 
Messrs.  Froebel,  Pestalozzi,  Herbart, 
13 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Locke,  and  Spencer  should  appear  and 
explain  their  theories  of  education,  and  at 
which  Professor  James  should  come  from 
Harvard  to  preside,  while  Professor  John 
Dewey  looked  in  to  make  a  few  remarks, 
would  never  persuade  that  parent  that 
her  child's  progress  was  not  to  be  gauged 
by  an  ability  to  spell  obsolete  words,  and 
to  worry  her  wTay  through  complicated 
problems  in  long  division. 

"Why,  she's  been  to  school  every  day 
for  seven  months;  rain,  nor  snow,  nor 
sleet  has  daunted  her.  She  has  an  um- 
brella, a  mackintosh,  and  a  pair  of  rub- 
bers. And  yet  with  all  these  aids  to 
education  she  cannot  spell  'parallel.'" 
If  you  are  rash  you  will  inform  her  that 
the  rubbers,  the  mackintosh,  and  the  um- 
brella may  travel  to  school  for  yet  an- 
other seven  months,  and  the  child  may 
still  remain  unable  to  spell  "parallel." 
If  you  are  patient  and  "so  disposed," 
14 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 

you  would  deliver  a  little  lecture  on  the 
new  methods  of  teaching  reading,  in 
which  first  a  whole  sentence  is  used  as  a 
unit;  later  a  phrase;  later  still  a  word; 
and  last  of  all  a  letter;  but  do  not  hope 
for  a  favorable  reception  of  this  theory. 
The  ex-teacher  of  high-school  mathe- 
matics, who,  in  her  own  far-distant  youth, 
excelled  at  spelling-bees,  could  name  the 
capital  of  every  State  in  the  Union  and 
every  country  in  the  world;  who  could 
recite  the  names  and  dates  of  the  Presi- 
dents, "The  Village  Blacksmith,"  "The 
Old  Oaken  Bucket,"  "The  Psalm  of 
Life,"  and  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, is  not  prepared  to  accept 
a  method  of  teaching  based  upon  the 
interests  and  the  reason  of  the  child, 
and  never  upon  its  mechanical  memory. 
"Things,"  she  will  tell  you,  "are  changed 
since  my  day,"  and  she  allows  you 
very  thoroughly  to  understand  that  they 
15 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

are  changed  most  mournfully  for  the 
worse. 

Changed  they  emphatically  are,  wheth- 
er for  worse  or  better.  Almost  every 
scientific,  medical,  and  sociological  dis- 
covery of  the  century  has  influenced  the 
school.  The  single  theory  of  the  mi- 
crobe as  the  cause  of  disease  has  well- 
nigh  revolutionized  it.  It  does  not  re- 
quire a  very  long  memory  to  reach  back 
to  the  days  of  slates  and  slate  rags,  with 
their  attendant  horrors  of  sliminess  and 
sucked  pencils.  In  those  dark  ages,  too, 
a  school-book  was  used  by  successive  gen- 
erations of  children  for  as  long  as  its 
print  was  legible  to  the  keenest  eye. 
Lead-pencils  were  collected  at  the  end  of 
the  day  and  dealt  out  again  promiscu- 
ously, and,  marvellous  to  reflect  upon, 
several  children  survived  their  schooling. 

In  these  days  the  well-equipped  and 
well-managed  school-room  is  as  sanitary 
16 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 

as  a  hospital  ward;  sterilizing  and  fumi- 
gating are  part  of  the  regular  work,  and 
every  book  and  pencil  undergoes  such 
treatment  before  being  transferred  from 
one  child  to  another.  The  number  of 
cubic  feet  of  air,  per  child,  per  hour,  is 
calculated  and  provided  for.  The  design- 
ing of  seats  for  school  children  is  a  matter 
which  occupies  the  attention  of  men  whose 
reputation  is  international,  and  whole 
schools  of  philosophy  busy  themselves  to 
determine  the  sequence  in  which  the  dif- 
ferent formal  studies  shall  be  presented. 

In  these  halcyon  days  when  Botany 
doffs  her  cap  and  gown  and  associates  with 
ordinary  mortals  in  the  friendly  guise  of 
"How  to  Know  the  Wild  Flowers," 
"Nature's  Garden,"  and  other  enticing 
disguises;  when  ornithology  takes  such 
friendly  shapes  as  "A  Kentucky  Cardi- 
nal" and  "Bird  Life";  when  physiology 
becomes  "How  to  Grow  Young"  and 
17 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"What  Ails  the  Baby";  when  even  polit- 
ical economy  reaches  the  ordinary  plane 
at  the  hands  of  Messrs.  Lincoln  Stef- 
fens,  Ray  Stannard  Baker,  and  Charles 
Edward  Russell — we  soon  expect  psychol- 
ogy to  burst  its  academic  bonds.  It  has 
already  made  one  or  two  tentative  appear- 
ances, and  it  was  moderately  well  received ; 
but  some  day,  and  soon,  a  prophet  will 
arise  to  preach  it  with  a  yet  more  popular 
voice. 

Then  shall  mother  and  teacher  sweetly 
lisp  of  the  "fringe  of  apperception,"  "the 
stream  of  consciousness,"  "inhibition," 
"ideal  motor  action,"  and  "the  tabula 
raza."  Psychology  has,  I  am  aware,  an 
unappealing  sound.  But  let  no  one 
imagine  that  it  is  not  or,  rather,  cannot 
be  made  interesting.  We  cannot  always 
catch  a  bird,  find  a  flower,  or  unearth  a 
social  evil ;  but  every  one,  under  all  con- 
ditions and  at  all  times,  has  a  psychology 
18 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 

in  full  working  order  concealed  about 
him,  and  the  art  of  teaching  in  its  last 
analysis  is  applied  psychology. 

How  many  mothers  have  heard  of  the 
theory,  formulated  and  vouched  for  by 
most  distinguished  scientists,  that  the  in- 
dividual during  the  normal  progress  of  his 
existence  passes  through  the  whole  his- 
tory of  the  development  of  his  race? 
That  he  has,  in  turn,  the  instincts  and  the 
wants  which  animated  all  his  ancestors, 
from  the  age  of  chaos  to  the  day  of  the 
flying-machine?  Upon  this  theory  the 
whole  scheme  of  education  is  based.  Its 
essential  principle  is  that  if  you  can  catch 
the  child  at  the  stone-age  point  of  its  de- 
velopment, you  can  then  most  readily 
teach  him  the  rather  restricted  sum  of 
knowledge  by  which  the  stone  man  steered 
his  daily  course.  The  difficulty  lies  in 
catching  what  is  then  most  literally  "the 
psychologic  moment,"  at  which  a  raw  root 
19 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

dug  up  with  a  stone  hammer  will  strike 
the  young  learner  as  a  square  meal. 

Any  interested  outsider  will  testify  that 
the  new  baby  confirms  this  theory.  It  is 
an  absolute  savage.  No  head-hunter  of 
Borneo  could  be  more  destitute  of  the 
"self-knowledge,  self-reverence,  self-con- 
trol" which  characterize  the  civilized 
man.  Observe  the  small  boy  taking  care 
of  his  small  sister,  and  you  will  see  the 
spirit  of  the  Inquisition  reproduced  in  all 
its  ingenuity  for  torture.  Note  the  length 
of  time  which  a  boy  will  spend  in  a  green- 
shaded  swimming-hole  on  a  summer  day, 
and  you  will  see  him  dating  back  to  his 
jelly-fish  ancestors.  A  little  girl  will  lav- 
ish all  the  passion  and  absorption  of 
motherhood  upon  a  bath  towel  and  a 
croquet-ball.  Hundreds  of  Davids  have 
gone  forth  against  their  Goliaths.  Thou- 
sands of  knights  in  short  stockings  have 
kept  the  law  of  the  Table  Round.  The 
20 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 

most  pampered  of  lads  and  lassies,  left  to 
their  own  devices,  will  revert  to  the  cuisine 
of  the  cave  man  and  sustain  themselves 
upon  mud  pies. 

Whole  volumes,  learned,  authoritative, 
but  so  far  ponderous,  have  been  devoted 
to  determining  the  age  at  which  the  dif- 
ferent impulses  which  prompt  or  qualify 
human  action  are  added  unto  the  individ- 
ual. Reason,  honor,  self-control,  knowl- 
edge, religion,  the  sense  of  right  and 
wrong  and  of  responsibility,  hate,  envy, 
love,  joy — all  the  forces  developed  in  the 
race  through  immemorial  ages — are  born 
and  reach  maturity  in  the  individual  dur- 
ing the  little  span  of  one  short  life. 

Whether  this  theory  be  right  or  wrong, 
no  one  can  question  that  it  is  interesting 
and  suggestive.  It  is  but  one  of  dozens 
with  which  the  teacher  is  supposed  to  be 
at  least  on  speaking  terms.  There  is 
another  large  field  of  experiment  and  ac- 
21 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

complishment  in  what  is  known  as  the 
manual-training  movement,  the  marvel- 
lous and  so  long  unrecognized  connection 
between  the  development  of  the  hand  and 
the  development  of  the  mind  and  morals. 
Any  one  craving  greater  marvels  than  are 
furnished  in  modern  romance  can  find 
them  in  the  reports  of  reformatories, 
prisons,  lunatic  asylums,  or  schools  for 
the  defective,  in  which  manual  training 
has  been  introduced. 

The  whole  trend  of  education  changed 
when  the  "three  R's"  ceased  to  be  its 
war-cry,  and  it  behooves  the  modern 
mother  to  realize  this  change  and  to  adapt 
herself  to  it.  For  the  school  and  the 
home  are  but  two  agencies  in  the  training 
of  the  child,  two  powers  which  should 
work  together  for  good;  and  the  ideal 
relation  between  the  two  is  that  they 
should  be  as  one.  It  was  a  very  great 
Teacher  who  taught  that  "no  man  can 
22 


"EVERY  GOOSE  A  SWAN" 

serve  two  masters."  Then  let  the  mother 
conform  her  rule  and  her  judgments  to 
the  laws  of  the  sister  kingdom. 

Let  her  hold,  for  instance,  that  the 
principle  of  self-activity  is  stronger  than 
blind  obedience  ever  was ;  that  emulation 
as  a  spur  to  effort  is  the  abomination  of 
desolation ;  that  a  sound  mind  in  a  sound 
body  is  more  to  be  valued  than  riches; 
that  a  keen  eye  for  color  and  form,  a 
steady  hand  to  guide  a  pencil  or  a  tool, 
a  mind  alert,  eager,  and  reasonable,  a 
heart  which  feels  its  brotherhood  with  all 
living,  growing  things,  a  free,  frank 
speech,  a  generous  nature,  and  an  honest 
tongue,  are  in  themselves  a  Declaration 
of  Independence  and  a  Psalm  of  Life. 


23 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

ISAAC  BORRACHSOHN,  Room  18's 
only  example  of  the  gilded  youth, 
could  never  be  described  as  a  brilliant 
scholar,  but  on  a  morning  in  early  April 
Miss  Bailey  found  him  more  trying  even 
than  was  his  wont.  He  was  plainly  the 
centre  of  some  sub-evident  interest.  First 
Readers  nudged  one  another  and  whis- 
pered together,  casting  awed  or  envious 
looks  upon  him,  and  when  the  hour  for 
recess  came  he  formed  the  centre  of  an 
excited  and  gesticulating  crowd.  But 
Isaac  Borrachsohn  had  never  quite  out- 
grown his  distrust  for  his  Krisht  teacher. 
It  was  fostered  by  all  his  womankind  at 
home,  and  was  insisted  upon  almost  as 
an  article  of  faith  by  his  grandfather  the 
Rabbi.  It  was  not  to  him,  therefore, 
27 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


that  Miss  Bailey  looked  for  an  explana- 
tion of  the  general  excitement,  though 
she  knew  that  before  the  day  should  pass 
she  would  hear  several  accounts  of  it. 

It  was  after  three  o'clock;  the  pre- 
scribed school  work  was  over  and  friendly 
converse  was  the  order  of  the  hour. 
The  Board  of  Monitors,  closing  the  door 
carefully  upon  the  last  unofficial  First 
Reader,  gathered  solemnly  round  Teacher 
and  proceeded  to  relate  Isaac  Borrach- 
sohn's  saga  of  his  latest  adventure. 

"He  says  like  that,"  said  Eva  Gon- 
orowsky,  Monitor  of  Pencil  Points,  in 
awed  and  envious  tones.  "He  says  he 
goes  by  his  papa's  side  in  a  carriage  on 
Games  in  Gardens." 

"I  guess  maybe  he  lies,"  Nathan 
Spiderwitz,  Monitor  of  Window  Boxes, 
suggested  with  some  disparagement.  "I 
was  to  Gardens — Summer  Gardens — mit 
my  papa  und  no  games  stands  in  'em. 
28 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

Stands  bottles  from  beer  und  pretzels 
on'y.  I  ain't  seen  nothings  like  how  Ikey 
says." 

"And  what  does  Ikey  say?"  asked 
Miss  Bailey. 

"Well,"  began  Morris  Mowgelewsky, 
Monitor  of  the  Gold  Fish  Bowl,  "Ikey 
says  Gardens  is  a  house  mit  thousens 
und  thousens  from  mans  und  ladies. 
Und  they  all  sets  by  side  theirselves,  und 
they  yells  somethin'  fierce.  Und  in  Gar- 
dens there  ain't  no  upstairs,  on'y  thousens 
und  thousens  from  lights.  Ikey  says  on 
the  Bowery  even  he  ain't  never  seen  how 
there  is  lights  in  Gardens." 

"Yes,  dear,  Ikey  was  quite  right,"  said 
Miss  Bailey,  beginning  to  discern  the 
outline  of  Madison  Square  Garden  with 
inter-scholastic  athletic  games  in  prog- 
ress. "The  mans  and  ladies"  were,  of 
course,  the  proud  parents,  sweethearts, 
relations,  and  various  colleagues,  and  the 
29 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"yells"  were  their  unconfined  joy  and 
triumph. 

"And  flags,"  supplemented  Patrick 
Brennan,  Monitor  of  Blackboards  and 
Leader  of  the  Line.  "I  says  to  that 
show-off,  Ikey  Borrachsohn,  4  Is  there  any 
flowers  in  that  garden  ? 9  And  he  says 
he  didn't  see  none  'cept  what  the  ladies 
had  on  'em.  And  all  the  rest  was  flags. 
Flags  hangin'  down  out  of  the  sky. 
Flags  up  in  the  lights,  and  everybody 
wavin'  flags.  Gee!  It  was  pretty  if  it's 
true." 

"It's  quite  true,  dear,"  Miss  Bailey  as- 
sured him.  "I  was  there  one  night  last 
week,  and  it  was  just  as  Isaac  says." 

"You  dun'no  all  what  Ikey  says," 
Morris  intervened.  "He  says  a  man 
comes  mit  a  great  big  hammer — a  awful 
big  hammer  mit  a  long  handle.  Und  he 
takes  that  hammer — Missis  Bailey  this  is 
how  Ikey  says — und  he  makes  it  shall  go 
30 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 


round  und  round  by  his  head.  Und  then 
he  takes  und  he  throws  it  where  some 
mans  stands,  und  Ikey  says  he  had  mad 
looks,  he  was  red  on  the  face  even,  over 
somethings." 

"If  any  one  got  fresh  with  hammers  on 
my  pop's  beat,"  Patrick  Brennan  inter- 
rupted, "they'd  get  pinched  so  quick 
they  wouldn't  know  what  struck  'em, 
and  Ikey  says  they  was  lots  of  police 
officers  standin'  around  doin'  nothin'. 
Ain't  he  the  liar!" 

"Not  this  time,"  said  Miss  Bailey; 
"he  was  telling  you  the  truth." 

Then  Nathan  Spiderwitz  took  up  the 
tale. 

"Und  sooner  that  man  makes,  like 
Morris  says,  mit  hammers,  comes  more 
mans  mit  more  hammers,  und  they 
throws  'em.  Und  comes  more  mans 
mit  from  iron  balls  so  big  like  Ikey's 
head,  und  they  throws  'em,  und  the  ladies 
31 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

und  the  mans  they  stands  und  yells,  und 
music  plays,  und  the  ladies  make  go 
their  flags  und  scups  up  und  down  on 
their  seats.  Und  the  mans  mit  those 
balls  und  hammers  they  has  awful  mads. 
They  is  red  on  the  face,  und  they  tries 
und  they  tries — Missis  Bailey,  Ikey  says 
it's  somethin'  fierce  how  they  tries — und 
they  couldn't  never  to  hit  nobody." 

"They  weren't  trying  to,"  Miss  Bailey 
tried  to  explain,  but  Isaac's  picturesque 
recital  was  not  lightly  to  be  effaced. 

"I  guess  games  in  gardens  ain't  so 
awful  healthy  for  somebody,"  was  Yetta 
Aaronsohn's  pronouncement.  6 ( My  mam- 
ma says  you  could  to  make  yourself  a 
sickness  sooner  you  runs  awful  hard, 
on'y  Ikey,  he  says  a  whole  bunch  from 
mans  und  boys  they  chases  theirselves 
like  an'thing.  They  runs  und  they  runs, 
und  all  the  times  the  mans  und  the  ladies 
scups  und  yells  und  makes  go  their  flags. 
32 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

Ikey  says  it  looks  like  a  awful  fight  is 
comin',  on'y  these  boys  und  mans  they 
couldn't  never  run  to  catch  theirselves, 
und  so  there  ain't  no  fight.  Ikey  had  a 
awful  sad  over  it." 

It  was  evident  all  through  this  recital 
that  Eva  Gonorowsky  had  a  communica- 
tion of  a  more  important  and  confidential 
nature  upon  her  conscientious  little  mind. 
When  at  last  the  other  Monitors  had 
scattered  to  their  duties,  and  Room  18 
was  in  a  satisfactory  stage  midway  'twixt 
chaos  and  order,  Eva  drew  Miss  Bailey 
into  the  corner  between  the  window  and 
the  bookcase. 

"Nobody  ain't  told  you  all  what  Ikey 
says,"  she  whispered,  with  much  the  same 
gusto  as  she  had  seen  her  elders  display 
as  they  gathered  close  about  the  very 
heart  of  a  scandal.  "Everybody  has 
f raids  over  telling  you." 

"Afraid!"  repeated  Miss  Bailey  in 
33 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


surprise,  well  knowing  this  to  be  the 
last  feeling  she  inspired.  "Afraid  to  tell 
me!" 

"Teacher,  yiss,  ma'am.  They  has 
fraids.  It's  somethin'  fierce  what  Ikey 
says.  He  says  like  that:  all  those  mans 
what  couldn't  to  catch  nothings  und 
couldn't  to  hit  nothings.  He  says  some- 
thin'  fierce  over  all  those  mans."  And 
here  Eva  pressed  her  professionally  soiled 
hand  over  her  mouth  and  regarded  Miss 
Bailey  with  scandalized  eyes. 

"Go  on,  dear,"  said  Miss  Bailey  en- 
couragingly. "If  Isaac  has  told  you  and 
Morris  and  the  others  I  might  as  well 
know  it  too." 

Eva  removed  her  hand.  "Ikey  Bor- 
rachsohn,  he  dun'no  what  is  polite  for 
him,"  she  made  reply.  "He  tells  it  on 
everybody — in  the  yard  even,  where  the 
babies  is — he  tells  it  out.  He  needs  he 
shall  get  hit  off  of  somebody." 

34 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 


"Now  you  tell  me,"  said  Miss  Bailey, 
"and  I'll  see  about  Isaac." 

"He  says,"  whispered  Eva,  "how  all 
those  mans  they  don't  puts  them  on  like 
mans  mit  suits  und  hats  und  pants  und 
coats — no,  ma'am,  that  ain't  how  they 
makes — they  puts  them  on  like  ladies 
und  like  little  girls.  On'y,"  and  Miss 
Bailey  had  to  stoop  to  catch  this  last  over- 
whelming sentence — 6  'on'y  they  don't 
puts  them  on  so  much." 

"Why  of  course  not,  Eva,"  answered 
Miss  Bailey,  repressing  with  stern  effort 
an  inclination  to  wild  laughter.  This  re- 
pression she  knew  to  be  the  corner-stone 
of  the  First  Reader's  faith  in  her.  She 
never,  openly,  laughed  at  their  little  con- 
fidences. She  was  a  serious-minded  per- 
son, always  ready  to  discuss  a  serious 
problem  seriously.  Quite  gravely  now 
she  pointed  out  to  Eva  the  difficulty  of 
violent  exertion  in  street  attire. 

35 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"You  yourself,"  she  amplified,  "take 
off  your  coat  and  hat  when  you  come  to 
school,  and  yet  you  only  read  and  write 
a  little,  and  do  quiet  things  like  that. 
Now  these  men  and  boys,  dear,  that  Isaac 
Borrachsohn  has  been  telling  about  wTere 
running  and  exercising  just  as  hard  as 
they  could;  you  know  how  hot  we  some- 
times get  here  when  we  only  stand  in  our 
places  and  exercise  our  arms  and  legs." 

Eva  was  impressed,  but  not  yet  quite 
convinced. 

"It  ain't,"  she  insisted,  a  gentle  last 
word,  unanswerable,  overwhelming,  "it 
ain't  hats  und  coats  what  Ikey  Borrach- 
sohn says  them  mens  in  Gardens  takes  off." 

Misunderstandings  of  this  sort  are  a 
natural  part  of  the  order  of  the  day  in 
class  rooms  such  as  Room  18,  where 
children,  alien  to  every  American  custom, 
and  prejudiced  by  religion  and  precept 
36 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

against  most  of  them,  are  undergoing 
their  training  in  citizenship.  Generations 
of  muffling  and  swaddling  were  behind 
Eva's  shocked  little  face.  Her  ancestors 
had  not  taken  their  recreation  in  running 
or  rowing  or  swimming.  And  the  scene 
at  Madison  Square  Garden  was  as  for- 
eign to  the  First  Readers'  traditions  as 
a  warm  afternoon  in  Athens  during  the 
age  of  Pericles  would  have  been  to  a  New 
England  spinster.  It  was  the  sort  of 
misunderstanding  which  must  be  faced 
instantly,  and  immediately  after  assem- 
bly on  the  next  morning  Miss  Bailey 
faced  it. 

"Isaac  Borrachsohn  has  told  you  all," 
she  commenced  pleasantly,  marshalling 
the  wavering  eyes  before  her  with  her 
own,  steady  and  clear,  "of  how  he  went 
to  Madison  Square  Garden  with  his  father 
and  saw  the  games." 

Isaac  squirmed  in  his  place. 
37 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"And  he  told  you,"  she  continued, 
6  6  how  he  saw  men  and  boys  running 
races,  and  trying  how  far  they  could  throw 
a  big  heavy  hammer  and  a  big  iron  ball. 
Isaac  didn't  quite  understand  what  they 
were  doing,  but  they  were  not  trying  to 
hit  any  one,  and  not  trying  to  catch  one 
another,  and  there  was  no  thought  at  all 
of  a  fight.  The  boy  who  ran  fastest  got 
a  prize,  the  boy  who  threw  the  hammer 
farthest  got  a  prize.  And  there  were  a 
great  many  other  prizes  for  jumping  and 
all  kinds  of  things.  And,"  she  continued, 
redoubling  the  concentration  in  her  eyes, 
"did  Isaac  tell  you  how  those  boys  were 
dressed  ?" 

A  gasp  and  a  shiver  swept  through 
Room  18. 

"Well,  if  he  didn't,  I  will.    They  wore 
the  very  lightest  clothes  they  could  get. 
They  wanted  to  be  free  and  cool.  They 
couldn't  run  fast  or  jump  far  with  all 
38 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

their  heavy  every-day  clothes  on.  Exer- 
cise makes  people  very  warm,  you  know. 
It  was  a  great  help  to  those  boys  to  be 
dressed  in  cool  white  clothes. 

"I  was  at  the  games,"  she  continued, 
"as  I  was  telling  some  of  the  boys  yester- 
day afternoon,  and  I  enjoyed  them  ever 
so  much.  I  was  just  wishing  that  you 
were  all  there  too.  The  girls  could  have 
sat  with  me,  and  the  boys  could  have  run 
in  the  ring.  I've  watched  you  all  play- 
ing in  the  yard,  and  I  know  what  good 
runners  some  of  you  are.  And  then 
when  they  gave  you  prizes  we,  the  girls 
and  I,  would  have  waved  our  flags  and 
cheered  just  like  the  ladies  Isaac  told  you 
about.  Now  wouldn't  that  be  grand?" 
she  cried,  and  the  First  Readers  vocifer- 
ously agreed  with  her,  though  Yetta 
Aaronsohn,  the  hypochondriacal,  was  still 
of  the  opinion  that  "wind  on  the  legs 
ain't  healthy  for  nobody." 

39 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Cold  indeed  would  be  the  heart  of  any 
masculine  First  Reader  who  could  see, 
unmoved,  the  picture  conjured  up  of 
Teacher's  words.  They  were  well  ac- 
customed to  impromptu  races,  run  on 
a  course  all  thick  beset  with  push-carts, 
ash  cans,  and  humanity.  Other  tests  of 
physical  strength,  with  the  exception 
by  an  occasional  hand-to-hand  conflict, 
neither  determined,  scientific,  nor  conclu- 
sive, were  practically  unknown.  But  to 
run  on  a  prepared  course  surrounded  by 
a  stationary  and  admiring  audience,  of 
which  Miss  Bailey  and  the  feminine 
First  Readers  formed  an  important  part, 
was  quite  a  different  thing.  Then,  too, 
"prizes"  was  an  alluring  word.  Teacher 
had  shown  it  to  mean  articles  of  price  and 
great  attractiveness.  The  "  clean-hands- 
for-a-week"  prize,  won  by  Sadie  Gono- 
rowsky,  with  Isidore  Applebaum  as  a 
close  second,  had  been  a  little  clasp  pin 
40 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

of  the  American  flag  in  enamel,  and  the 
"  cleanest-shoes-for-a-month  "  prize  had 
been  a  pair  of  roller  skates. 

The  masculine  element  of  the  Room 
18's  Board  of  Monitors  met  that  after- 
noon in  the  cellar  of  a  recently  burned 
tenement  to  discuss  the  situation.  If  it 
would  pleasure  Miss  Bailey  to  see  her 
adherents  racing  round  a  garden  in  ab- 
breviated costumes,  there  was,  they  de- 
cided, no  very  serious  reason  against  giv- 
ing her  that  pleasure.  It  was  only  a 
shade  more  unreasonable  than  other  de- 
sires of  hers  to  which  they  had  bent  their 
energies,  and  since  there  was  question  of 
reward,  it  became  even  more  a  duty  and 
a  pleasure  to  oblige  her. 

"But  we  ain't  got  no  Gardens,"  Na- 
than Spiderwitz  pointed  out. 

"We'll  use  my  yard,"  said  Patrick. 
"When  me  mother  has  company  she  al- 
ways calls  our  yard  a  garden.  It's  got 
41 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

a  tree  in  it,  and  we  can  get  some  flags  to 
hang  on  the  clothes  line.  I  was  askin' 
me  big  brother  last  night,  and  he  knows 
all  about  them  games.  He'll  tell  us 
mor'n  Ikey  Borrachsohn  can  about  how 
the  thing  goes,  and  when  we  get  it  fixed 
just  right,  we'll  have  Miss  Bailey  and 
the  girls  come  round  some  Saturday 
morning  and  see  us  run  and  jump.  Say, 
it'll  be  great!  I  can  run  faster  than  any 
feller  in  the  class;  an'  I  bet  I  can  jump 
higher  too,  an'  I  bet  I  can  throw  things 
farther,  too,  an'  I  bet  I  can  lick  ye  all 
pole-vaultin',  too.  Me  brother  was  tellin' 
me  about  that." 

"I  don't  know  what  is  * pole-vaultin' 
even,"  said  Morris,  and  asked  with  some 
natural  curiosity  what  parts  he  and  other 
possible  competitors  were  to  take  in  these 
Games  in  Gardens. 

"Oh,  you,"  answered  Patrick,  with 
happy  condescension,  "you  all  is  goin'to 
42 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 


get  licked.  That's  what  you're  goin'  to 
do.    Don't  you  worry." 

But  this  role  did  not  appeal  strongly  to 
either  of  his  colleagues. 

"I  don't  know  do  I  likes  gettin'  licked," 
Morris  objected  with  some  reason. 

"Und  I  don't  know  will  I  get  licked," 
said  Nathan  Spider witz,  the  valorous.  "I 
jumped  once,  und  I  run  too.  I  jumped 
off  of  a  wagon.  A  awful  big  grocery 
wagon,  mit  crackers  on  it.  Und  I  jumped 
when  it  was  goin'.  Und  I  run  like 
an'thin'." 

"  You  was  thro  wed  off,"  taunted  Pat- 
rick, "you  was  thro  wed  off  be  the  man 
when  he  seen  you  hookin'  crackers." 

"Ye  lie,"  said  Nathan  frankly.  "I 
jumped  as  soon  as  he  seen  me,  und  I 
guess  I  can  jump  some  more.  You  ain't 
the  only  boy  what  can  run  und  jump,  you 
old-show-of-freshy  Irisher." 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  peaceful 
43 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Monitor  of  the  Gold  Fish  Bowl  restored 
harmony,  and  time  was  added  unto  diffi- 
culty before  the  Games  in  Gardens  were 
satisfactorily  arranged. 

Had  it  been  possible  to  consult  Miss 
Bailey,  all  would  have  been  plain  and 
simple  sailing.  She  was  the  First  Reader's 
home  port,  but  she  was  now  blockaded 
for  her  own  benefit.  The  suggestions 
of  Patrick's  big  brother  were  overwhelm- 
ing and  technical.  And  Isaac  Bor- 
rachsohn,  through  constant  questionings, 
grew  at  once  so  extravagant  and  so  hazy 
in  his  recollections  as  to  be  practically 
useless.  Patrick's  mother,  wThen  applied 
to  for  a  morning's  use  of  her  yard,  was 
curt  and  kind. 

"Use  it  if  ye  will,"  said  she,  "but  don't 
clutter  it,  an'  don't  fall  out  of  me  pear 
tree." 

It  was  at  about  the  time  of  the  dens- 
est discouragement  that  Miss  Bailey,  all 
44 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

unknowing,  came  to  their  relief.  She 
brought  to  Room  18  and  passed  about 
among  the  First  Readers  a  copy  of  an 
illustrated  "Weekly"  containing  pictures 
of  the  later  and  more  important  contest 
than  that  which  Isaac  had  witnessed. 
And  Ignatius  Aloysius  Diamentstein,  by 
that  time  admitted  to  the  track  team,  ap- 
propriated it  at  the  lunch  hour,  and 
thereafter  it  served  as  "The  Complete 
Guide  to  Games  in  Gardens." 

The  day  was  set.  A  Saturday  morn- 
ing in  late  May.  The  guests  in  ordinary 
were  invited.  In  other  words  the  femi- 
nine First  Readers  had  been  told  that 
they  would  be  admitted  to  Patrick  Bren- 
nan's  yard  at  ten  o'clock  on  that  May 
morning,  on  condition  that  each  wrould 
bring  a  flag  and  say  nothing  to  the  un- 
invited boys.  The  free-for-all  spirit  was 
not  endorsed  by  Patrick,  and  the  con- 
testants were  only  seven,  picked  and 
45 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

chosen,  be  it  said,  with  a  nice  adjustment 
to  Patrick's  own  prowess,  for  "I  ain't 
goin'  to  be  licked  in  me  own  yard,"  had 
been  his  steadfast  determination  through- 
out. 

Nathan  Spiderwitz  was  given  to  in- 
spirations always  inconvenient  and  dis- 
tressing. He  experienced  one  at  this 
eleventh  hour  when  all  the  arrangements 
were  completed,  and  it  remained  only  to 
invite  the  guest  of  honor. 

"Who  gives  the  prizes  ?"  he  demanded, 
as  he  and  Patrick  were  superintending 
the  construction  of  a  grand  stand  made 
of  soap-boxes  and  a  broken  sofa.  "  Where 
is  the  prizes,  and  who  gives  'em?"  he 
repeated. 

"Mind  your  own  business,"  was  Pat- 
rick's useful  answer.  It  showed  a  bold 
front  and  left  time  for  thought. 

"Who  gives  'em?"  insisted  Nathan. 

"Don't  you  worry  'bout  prizes,"  mut- 
46 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 


tered  Patrick  darkly,  "they  ain't  none  of 
your  business.  You  got  a  swell  chanst 
to  git  any  prizes  in  my  yard.  Not  when 
I'm  in  it,  ye  don't." 

Thus  with  Nathan.  But  with  Morris 
he  was  more  frank. 

"There's  one  thing,"  said  he,  when  he 
found  that  crack  long-jumper  in  the 
boys'  yard  at  luncheon  time,  "what  I'm 
going  to  let  you  do." 

"Is  it  nice  for  me?"  queried  the  Cus- 
todian of  Gold  Fish. 

"Great!"  answered  Patrick.  "I'm  goin' 
to  let  ye  ast  Miss  Bailey  to  the  party." 

Morris  glowed  with  pride  and  impor- 
tance.   "I  likes  that,"  he  breathed. 

"Well,  you  can  do  it.  Ye  don't  want 
to  tell  her  what  kind  of  a  party  it  is.  Just 
go  up  to  her  after  school  and  say  that '  we 
invites  her  to  come  to  my  yard  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  mornin',  and  bring  seven 
prizes  with  her.'  " 

47 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"Oh — oh-h-h!  I  couldn't  to  say  noth- 
ings like  that,"  Morris  remonstrated.  "I 
guess  you  don't  know  what  is  polite.  I 
don't  know  has  Missis  Bailey  got  seven 
prizes." 

"She'll  get  'em  all  right,  all  right," 
Patrick  assured  him;  "ain't  she  always 
givin'  'em  around  ?  You  just  tell  her 
'ten  o'clock  and  seven  prizes.'  It's  all 
right,  I  tell  you.  I  could  'a  showed  ye 
the  picture  on  that  paper  of  a  lady  stand- 
in'  up  givin'  out  the  prizes.  An'  Miss 
Bailey's  the  only  lady  goin'  to  be 
there." 

"It  ain't  polite,"  Morris  maintained. 
But  he  had  during  these  last  athletic 
weeks  broken  so  many  of  his  canons  and 
his  laws  that  he  accepted  this  last  com- 
mand with  more  docility  than  Patrick 
had  expected. 

"A  party!"  cried  Miss  Bailey,  "now 
isn't  that  nice?  And  for  to-morrow 
48 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 


morning.  Of  course  I'll  be  there.  And 
what  kind  of  a  party  is  it  to  be,  dear  ?" 

"It's  something  you  says  you  likes  you 
shall  see.  Und  on  the  party  you  shall  see 
it.    Und  you  shall  have  a  s'prise  over  it." 

"You  grow  more  interesting  every  mo- 
ment," said  Teacher.  "Tell  me  more. 
I  love  surprises." 

"There  ain't  no  more,"  Morris  an- 
swered, "on'y,"  and  he  took  his  conver- 
sational running- jump,  "on'y  maybe  you 
shall  bring  seven  prizes  mit.  I  says 
maybe  you  ain't  got  seven  prizes.  On'y 
Patrick  says  I  shall  say  it  out  like  that, 
'you  shall  come  on  the  party  und  bring 
seven  prizes.'" 

"Seven!"  reflected  Teacher.  "That  is 
rather  a  large  order,  but  I  think  I  can 
manage  it.  Have  you  any  idea,  Morris, 
of  what  kind  they  should  be  ?" 

"Teacher,  yiss,  ma'am,"  Morris  an- 
swered, "'fer-boys'  prizes." 

49 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"I  think  I  understand,"  and  Miss 
Bailey  smiled  at  him.  "You  may  tell 
Patrick  that  I  and  '  seven  fer-boys'  prizes' 
will  be  at  his  house  in  the  morning." 

She  regarded  the  subject  as  closed. 
Not  so  Morris.  Through  all  the  suc- 
ceeding occupations  of  the  afternoon  an 
idea  persisted  with  him,  and  when  the 
Teacher  left  the  building  at  last  she 
found  him  waiting  for  her  on  the  wide 
steps. 

"You  want  me,  dear?"  she  asked. 
"I  shall  tell  you  somethings,"  Morris 
began  in  evident  embarrassment. 
"Yes,  dear." 
"It's  over  those  prizes." 
"Yes,  Morris." 

"Miss  Bailey,  it's  like  this.  You  don't 
need  to  care  sooner  you  ain't  got  on'y 
six  prizes.  Seven  prizes  I  guess  costs 
bunches  und  bunches  from  money.  So 
six  prizes  comes  on  Patrick's  yard,  that's 
50 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 


all  right.  Stands  one  boy  what  don't 
needs  no  prize." 

"He  must  be  a  strange  little  boy,"  com- 
mented Teacher.  "I  never  before  heard 
of  a  boy  who  didn't  like  prizes." 

"Oh,  he  likes  'em;  how  he  likes  'em. 
I  ain't  said  he  ain't  got  feelin's  over  'em- 
On'y  it's  like  this:  he  don't  needs  you 
shall  buy  prizes  for  him  the  whiles  you 
got  to  buy  six  prizes  already." 

"I  think  I  understand,  dear,"  Teacher 
answered,  and  she  set  out  for  the  shopping 
district  and  bought  six  prizes  of  great 
glitter  and  little  worth.  But  the  seventh 
was  such  a  watch  as  a  boy  might  use  and 
treasure  through  all  the  years  of  his  boy- 
hood. 

The  great  day  dawned  bright  and 
clear.  Miss  Bailey's  entrance,  punctual 
and  parcel-laden,  in  a  festive  frilly  frock 
and  a  flowery  hat,  caused  something  al- 
most like  silence  to  fall  upon  the  scene  of 
51 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

the  coming  tournament.  Eva  Gonorow- 
sky  clasped  Teacher's  unoccupied  hand, 
Sarah  Schodsky  and  Yetta  Aaronsohn  re- 
lieved her  of  her  bundles.  Sadie  Gon- 
orowsky  gesticulated  madly  from  the 
place  upon  the  sofa  which  she  was  reserv- 
ing with  all  the  expanse  of  her  outspread 
skirt. 

Teacher  approached  the  grand  stand 
and  took  her  place.  The  feminine  First 
Readers  swarmed  upon  the  soap  boxes. 
But  neither  leg  nor  arm  nor  even  eye 
was  moved  by  the  seven  masculine  First 
Readers  drawn  up  in  the  centre  of  the 
yard.  Flags  waved  in  such  profusion 
and  such  uniformity  that  even  Miss 
Bailey's  obligation  to  her  hosts  could  not 
blind  her  to  the  fact  that  she  had  at  last 
found  the  fifty-two  American  flags  pasted 
together  by  the  First  Reader  Class  when 
Washington's  Birthday  was  in  the  air  and 
the  offing.  Two  weeks  ago  she  had 
52 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

missed  them  out  of  the  cupboard,  and 
neither  janitor  nor  Monitor  could  give 
her  tidings  of  them.  They  looked  very 
well,  she  was  forced  to  admit,  dangling 
from  high  fence  and  clothes  line.  And 
very  bright  and  joyant  was  the  whole 
scene.  The  little  girls  in  their  bright 
colors.  The  sky  so  blue.  Mrs.  Bren- 
nan's  pear  tree  in  sturdy  bloom.  All  was 
brilliant  with  a  sense  of  Spring  save  the 
seven  dark-clothed  figures  in  the  centre 
of  the  yard. 

"Can  you  guess  what  kind  from  party 
it  is?"  shrieked  Sadie  Gonorowsky  from 
the  top  of  a  tottering  soap  box  to  which 
she  had  withdrawn. 

"Why,  it's — "  Teacher  began,  re- 
cognizing some  elements  of  the  scene,  but 
made  uncertain  by  the  seven  dark  little 
figures,  "of  course  it's  " 

"It's  'Games  in  Gardens,'"  shouted 
the  little  girls,  waving  their  flags  like  mad 
53 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


and  "scupping"  so  energetically  that  two 
disappeared,  "  it's  Games  in  Gardens, 
und  you're  goin'  to  have  a  s'prise." 

One  of  the  dark  and  silent  figures 
found  speech  and  motion. 

"Set  down  an'  shut  up,"  commanded 
Patrick  Brennan.  "  We're  goin'  to  begin." 

The  shutting  up  would  have  been 
effected  automatically  by  the  next  pro- 
ceeding of  the  seven.  They  laid  violent 
hands  upon  themselves  and  in  an  instant 
a  flat  little  heap  of  dark  clothes  marked 
the  centre  of  the  yard,  and  Patrick  Bren- 
nan, Ignatius  Aloysius  Diamentstein,  Isi- 
dore Applebaum,  Nathan  Spiderwitz,  Isi- 
dore Wishnewsky,  Isaac  Belchatosky,  and 
Morris  Mowgelewsky  stood  forth  in  cos- 
tumes reported  by  Isaac  Borrachsohn, 
sanctioned  by  Miss  Bailey,  and  owned  by 
members  of  the  audience. 

A  moment  of  tense  silence  followed. 
Every  eye  sought  Teacher,  and  Constance 
54 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

Bailey  knew  that  upon  her  first  word  or 
look  depended  success  or  failure,  pride 
or  everlasting  shame.  There  was  no  time 
to  wonder  how  the  mistake  arose.  No 
time  to  remember  what  she  had  said  that 
could  possibly  have  been  interpreted  to 
mean  this.  They  were  her  gallant  little 
knights  doing  her  uncomprehended  bid- 
ding, and  trying — at  what  sacrifice  she 
guessed — to  pleasure  their  liege  lady. 

Again  she  had  blundered.  Again  she 
had  failed  to  quite  bridge  the  distance. 
The  wrong  word  lay  somewhere  back  in 
her  effort  to  undo  Isaac  Borrachsohn's 
mischief.  And  she  had  wrought  mischief 
ten  times  worse.  The  most  devoted  of 
her  charges  stood  there  in  the  clear  May 
sunshine;  the  funniest,  most  pathetic, 
most  ridiculous  little  figures,  with  their 
thin  little  arms  and  legs  and  their  long 
little  necks:  proud,  embarrassed,  wistful 

"My  dear  boys,"  she  cried  suddenly, 
55 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"how  fine  you  look!  How  beautiful  and 
— and — clean  you  are,"  she  went  on  a 
little  bit  at  random.  "And  now  we  are 
going  to  have  games,  and  the  girls  and  I 
will  cheer  the  winners." 

"Be  ye  s'prised?"  yelled  Patrick  in 
irrepressible  pride. 

"Dreadfully!"  she  answered.  "Dread- 
fully, Patrick  dear." 

"Then  we'll  begin,"  answered  the  mas- 
ter of  ceremonies.  "One,  git  in  yer 
places!  Two,  fer  a  show!  Three,  to 
make  ready!    And  jour  to  GO," 

Upon  his  final  word  the  "Games  in 
Gardens"  began.  The  two  Isidores  and 
Ignatius  Aloysius  Diamentstein  rushed 
madly  round  the  yard.  Patrick  tried  to 
urge  the  others  to  follow,  but  Morris  had 
elected  the  long  jump — and  the  long 
jump  he  would  perform,  all  protests  to 
the  contrary  notwithstanding.  Nathan 
Spiderwitz  grasped  the  clothes  pole  and 
56 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

vaulted  with  great  accuracy  into  the  left 
wing  of  the  grand  stand.  Isaac  Bel- 
chatosky  had  secured  a  dilapidated  ball 
from  an  abandoned  bowling-alley,  and 
he  "put  the  shot"  in  all  directions  to  his 
own  satisfaction  and  the  audience's  terror 
until  run  into  and  overturned  by  Ignatius 
Aloysius  Diamentstein. 

Shrill  cries  went  up  from  the  audience. 
The  two  boys  arose  unhurt,  but  the  feel- 
ings of  Bertha  Binderwitz  and  Eva  Ki- 
dansky  were  not  thereby  soothed. 

"I  guess  I  gets  killed  off  of  my  mam- 
ma," wailed  Bertha  when  she  saw  that 
one  whole  side  of  Isaac  Belchatosky  was 
smeared  with  mud.  And  when  Nathan 
Spiderwitz  was  reclaimed  from  the  soap 
boxes,  with  a  long  piece  of  cambric  ruffle 
trailing  behind  him,  Sadie  Gonorowsky  fell 
into  such  an  agony  of  apprehension  that 
Miss  Bailey  felt  called  upon  for  a  promise 
to  repair  the  damage  ere  another  sun 
57 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


should  set.  Meantime  Patrick  was  not 
idle.  Disdaining  competition,  he  went 
through  all  the  "events,"  one  after  another 
until  the  perspiration  was  thick  upon  his 
forehead,  and  Eva  Gonorowsky  was  trem- 
bling with  excitement. 

"My  mamma  don't  know,"  she  in- 
formed Miss  Bailey  over  and  over  again. 
But  owing  perhaps  to  her  watchful  care, 
perhaps  to  a  natural  aptitude  for  athletics, 
Patrick  escaped  unspotted  and  unscathed. 

He  turned  hand-springs  upon  the  heap 
of  clothes.  He  stood  upon  his  head  upon 
the  same  rostrum  until  his  eyes  bulged, 
and  Miss  Bailey  implored  him  to  desist. 
He  wrested  the  shot  from  Isidore  Wish- 
newsky,  a  pe.rson  of  no  spirit,  and  then 
he  "put"  it  neatly  into  the  waist  line  of 
its  owner,  who  promptly  sat  back  gasping. 

"Don't  you  dast  to  set,  Isidore  Wish- 
newsky,"  shrilled  Sarah  Schodsky  in  a 
panic.  "I  guess  you  dunno  what  is 
58 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 


polite  for  you.  Sooner  somebody  lends 
you  somethings  it  ain't  polite  you  should 
set  on  it!  Ain't  it  fierce  how  he  makes, 
Missis  Bailey?" 

"It  is  a  little  rude,"  Miss  Bailey  ad- 
mitted in  a  voice  as  unsteady  as  Isidore 
Wishnewsky. 

"I  never  in  my  world  seen  how  they 
all  makes,"  said  Yetta  Aaronsohn,  that 
authority  on  Hygiene  and  the  Care  of  the 
Body.  "They  could  to  make  themselves 
awful  sicknesses  over  it — home  sicknesses, 
even,  und  lay-on-the-bed  sicknesses,  und 
comes-the-doctor  sicknesses." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!"  Teacher  rallied  the 
pessimistic  Yetta,  "though  they  certainly 
do  seem  to  be  getting  very  tired." 

By  this  time  the  track  team  of  the  First 
Reader  Class  had  exhausted  itself  and  its 
repertoire,  and  came  forward,  hot  but 
confident,  for  its  laurels.  There  was 
something  for  each  one,  and  for  each 
59 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

a  little  word  of  special  commendation. 
And  if  Teacher's  voice  was  more  tender, 
her  eyes  more  gentle  when  Morris's  turn 
came,  she  still  was  gentle  and  tender 
enough  with  all  of  them. 

At  the  end  she  made  a  short  address  to 
victors  and  audience  alike.  She  thanked 
them  for  their  great  effort  to  give  her 
pleasure,  and  for  the  great  pleasure  they 
had  given  her,  and  then  added : 

"When  I  brought  your  prizes  this 
morning  I  had  no  idea  what  the  party 
was  to  be  like,  and  so  of  course  I  didn't 
get  just  what  I  would  have  given  you  if  I 
had  known.  But  now  that  I  do  know 
how  wonderfully  our  boys  can  jump  and 
run,  I  shall  bring  for  each  boy  on  Mon- 
day morning  a  regular  running  suit,  and 
whenever  you  have  'Games  in  Gardens' 
again  you  won't  have  to  borrow  anything. 
Perhaps  the  Principal  would  like  you  to 
have  'Games  in  Gardens'  on  the  roof 
60 


"GAMES  IN  GARDENS" 

some  afternoon,  and  you  could  invite  the 
other  classes.    I  am  sure  they'd  love  it." 

"You  liked  it  all  right,  all  right,  didn't 
you,  Teacher?"  demanded  Patrick. 

"Liked  it ! "  she  echoed.  "Why,  I  was 
simply  delighted." 

"Und  s'prised?"  questioned  Morris. 

"I  was  never  more  so  in  all  my  long, 
long  life,"  answered  Constance  Bailey 
with  entire  conviction. 


61 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 


WHERE  did  you  get  him?"  said 
the  Principal. 
"In  the  back  yard  of  one  of  those 
double-deckers  down  by  the  river,"  an- 
swered the  Truant  Officer.  4 6 Ain't  he 
the  bird!"  he  added  in  professional  en- 
thusiasm. "I've  been  chasing  him  for 
two  or  three  days.  He's  just  about  as 
easy  to  handle  as  an  eel,  and  to-day  he 
bit  me  as  we  were  coming  along.  He's  a 
beauty,  he  is!" 

"And  you  say  he  doesn't  speak  Yid- 
dish?" queried  the  Principal. 

"He  don't  speak  the  kind  I  do,"  the 
other  answered.    "I  get  on  all  right  with 
the  rest  of  the  folks  around  here,  and  I 
certainly  never  expected  to  have  trouble 
65 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


rounding  up  a  kid  that  ain't  knee-high  to 
a  grasshopper.  No,  you  don't,  sonny!" 
he  broke  off  as  his  charge  was  sliding 
toward  the  door.  "You've  got  to  stay 
here  now  and  have  a  nice  lady  learn  you 
how  to  read  and  write  and  cipher." 

The  boy  looked  up  at  his  captor  with 
the  wide,  desperate  eyes  of  an  animal  at 
bay,  recognizing  his  helplessness,  but 
determined  to  bite  and  fight  to  the  very 
end. 

"Will  you  look  at  that  now  ?"  the  Tru- 
ant Officer  exclaimed;  "he  thinks  every 
one's  going  to  hurt  him.  That's  the  way 
some  of  those  kids  feel." 

"Oh,  he'll  soon  get  over  that  here," 
the  Principal  laughed.  "I've  seen  them 
much  wilder  on  their  first  appearance. 
The  teachers  know  how  to  handle  them." 

Left  alone  with  his  new  charge,  the 
Principal  turned  and  studied  him.  The 
boy  was  in  the  corner,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
66 


4 

"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

the  closed  door,  his  whole  little  body 
tense.  His  visible  clothing  consisted  of 
a  man's  coat,  cut  short  at  the  sleeves  and 
pinned  across  the  breast.  The  child  was 
so  small  that  this  reached  far  below  his 
knees,  where  it  was  supplemented  by 
ragged  stockings  and  shoes.  He  was  un- 
kempt and  dirty,  even  according  to  the 
unexacting  East  Side's  standard.  But 
there  was  something  about  the  poise  of 
his  head  and  the  slow,  lithe  movements  of 
his  body  that  differentiated  him  from  the 
ordinary  street  waif.  There  was  no  fear 
in  him — no  pleading,  no  snivelling,  noth- 
ing but  a  harsh,  almost  mature,  defi- 
ance. 

"Come  here!"  said  the  Principal.  At 
the  sound  of  his  voice  the  child  turned 
and  looked  at  him,  and  the  man  found 
himself  returning  the  cool  regard  of  a 
pair  of  violet-blue  eyes.  Blue  eyes 
picked  up  in  the  heart  of  that  dusky 
67 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

neighborhood,  where  he  had  learned  to 
expect  all  children's  eyes  to  be  either 
black  or  brown! 

"I  wonder  what  he  is,  and  where  he 
comes  from,"  he  sighed,  as  he  rang  the 
bell  and  summoned  the  teacher  who  gen- 
erally acted  as  his  interpreter.  "  David 
Copperfield's  poor  old  friend,  Mr.  Dick, 
would  find  plenty  of  use  for  his  famous 
prescription,  'wash  him,'  if  he  were  in 
my  place." 

Miss  Rosen  soon  arrived  and  began  her 
usual  inquiries  as  to  name,  age,  residence. 
The  little  stranger  heard  her  through,  and 
then  he  uttered  a  sharp  three  or  four  word 
sentence,  clear  cut,  imperious;  and  Miss 
Rosen,  a  sweet  and  portly  lady  of  fifteen 
years'  faithful  teaching,  flushed  to  the 
edge  of  her  hard  black  pompadour,  and 
stared,  incredulous,  at  the  ragged  form 
before  her. 

"Well,"  said  the  Principal,  as  she 
68 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 


made  no  effort  at  translation.  "What 
does  he  say?" 

"I  do  not  speak  his  language,"  she 
answered. 

"And  yet  you  understand  him?" 

"I  understand  him — yes  " 

"Well,"  repeated  the  Principal,  in  no 
mind  to  allow  one  small  boy  to  upset  his 
morning's  routine,  "well,  if  you  under- 
stand him,  tell  me  what  he  said.  What 
language  was  that  he  used  ?" 

"Russian,"  she  replied,  "pure  Russian, 
and  what  he  said  is  the  only  Russian 
phrase  which  many  of  the  Jewish  people 
ever  hear.  I  have  not  heard  it  since  I 
escaped  from  Russia  with  my  parents 
years  and  years  ago.  I  had  hoped  never 
to  hear  it  again.  I  must  refuse  to  trans- 
late it  to  you." 

When  she  had  gone,  all  shaken,  back 
to  her  class,  the  Principal  shook  a  remon- 
strating head  at  his  captive,  who  was  by 
69 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


this  time  examining  the  book-case  with 
a  disparaging  eye.  Catching  the  man's 
glance,  he  made  some  remark  in  his  liquid 
speech,  and  thumped  his  chest. 

"Perhaps  so,  my  boy,"  Mr.  Trevar 
agreed.  "But  I'm  studying  your  case. 
No  English,  horrid  temper,  young  wild 
animal,  in  fact.  It's  hard  on  the  girl," 
he  admitted  to  his  own  conscience;  "but 
I  guess  it's  a  case  for  Room  18,"  and 
rang  the  bell  again  and  sent  word  to 
Room  18  to  summon  Miss  Bailey  to  his 
office. 

"We've  caught  a  tartar,"  he  told  her, 
"almost  literally  a  Tartar.  He  seems  to 
have  strong  racial  prejudices,  and  I  shall 
have  to  assign  him  to  you  until  he  learns 
a  little  English." 

"But  if  he  speaks  no  English  at  all," 
Miss  Bailey  remonstrated — for  children 
of  this  kind  were  her  greatest  trial,  and 
she  was  already  laboring  with  three  of 
70 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 


them — "would  he  not  be  happier  with 
one  of  the  teachers  who  could  under- 
stand him  ?" 

"Ah!  but  they  wouldn't,"  he  replied; 
"that's  just  the  point.  Miss  Rosen  tells 
me  he's  a  Russian  and  not  a  Jew.  He 
said  something  extremely  rude  to  her 
just  now.  No,  you'll  have  to  take  him, 
at  least  for  a  few  days,  until  I  can  make 
some  inquiries  about  him.  We  shall 
have  to  get  the  Truant  Officer  to  give  us 
the  child's  name  and  address.  Will  you 
take  him  with  you  now?" 

Constance  Bailey  had  a  smile  to  which 
many  a  lonely  frightened  little  novice  had 
yielded  a  shy  and  sweet  response,  but 
there  was  no  answering  smile  here.  She 
stretched  out  a  hand  to  take  the  boy's, 
but  he  eluded  her,  reached  the  door, 
opened  it,  and  stood  at  stiff  attention 
until  she  had  preceded  him  into  the 
hall. 

71 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"Well,  I'll  be  blamed!"  reflected  the 
Principal.  "Manners,  and  princely  ones 
at  that!" 

On  the  way  to  Room  18,  Miss  Bailey's 
newest  responsibility  walked  beside  her 
with  a  free  and  upright  carriage  strangely 
at  variance  with  the  shoes  he  walked  in. 
Once  or  twice  she  spoke  to  him,  and  his 
answer  was  an  uncomprehending  but 
courteous  inclination  of  the  little  head. 
Once  he  spoke  to  her.  It  was  when  they 
passed  the  platform  in  the  Assembly 
Room.  He  pointed  to  the  piano  and 
said  something  eagerly,  authoritatively, 
in  that  language  whose  like  Miss  Bailey 
had  never  heard.  She  nodded  and  smiled 
at  him,  and  they  fared  on  together. 

Again,  at  the  door  of  Room  18,  he 
punctiliously  allowed  her  to  precede  him. 
But  as  he  entered  after  her  and  met  the 
full  regard  of  Room  18's  dark  eyes,  he 
stopped  and  returned  the  glances  bent 
72 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

upon  him  with  a  cool,  insulting  indiffer- 
ence. 

"This  is  a  new  little  boy,"  announced 
Miss  Bailey,  "to  whom  I  want  you  all  to 
be  very  kind.  He  doesn't  speak  much 
English,  but  we  shall  teach  him  that. 
Morris,  he  will  sit  near  you." 

Morris  Mowgelewsky,  all  timid  friend- 
liness, approached  the  stranger.  Here 
surely  was  a  queer  new  little  boy  in  a 
"from  man's"  coat,  and  an  exceeding 
dirty  face;  yet  if  Miss  Bailey  hailed 
him  as  a  new  little  friend,  then  as  a 
new  little  friend  he  must  be  made  wel- 
come. 

"Talk  to  him  a  moment,  Morris," 
Teacher  commanded.  "See  if  he  won't 
tell  you  what  his  name  is." 

Morris  obeyed,  and  the  child  answered 
him  in  the  words  that  had  so  upset  Miss 
Rosen.  But  Morris  had  left  Russia  when 
he  was  only  two  years  old,  and  the  phrase 
73 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

held  no  meaning  for  him,  though  the  tone 
made  him  pause. 

"I  don't  know  how  he  says,"  Morris 
reported  to  Miss  Bailey.  "I  says  out  of 
Jewish,  'What  is  your  name,  little  boy?' 
und  I  don't  know  what  he  says.  On'y 
it  ain't  names,  und  it  ain't  lovin'." 

' '  Very  well,  dear,  you  may  go  back  to 
your  place.  I'll  keep  him  here  beside 
me  for  a  while,"  answered  Teacher,  more 
than  ever  at  a  loss,  for  the  winningness 
of  Morris  had  never  failed  to  charm  a 
stranger. 

At  the  recess  hour,  when  all  the  other 
children  filed  down  into  the  yard,  Teacher 
sent  Patrick  Brennan  with  a  little  note  to 
Mr.  Eissler,  the  teacher  of  the  biggest 
boys,  those  nearly  ready  for  graduation. 
He  was  an  elderly  man  wearing  well  in 
the  service  to  which  the  noblest  of  his 
race  have  always  devoted  themselves. 
He  and  Miss  Bailey  were  great  friends, 
74 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

and  much  of  the  understanding  of  this 
alien  race — its  habits,  its  emotions,  and 
its  innate  refinement — the  understanding 
which  made  her  reign  in  Room  18  so 
peaceful  and  beneficent,  she  had  acquired 
from  him,  and  from  the  books  he  lent  her. 

"Dear  Mr.  Eissler,"  ran  the  note. 
"Will  you  come  to  Room  18  when  you 
are  at  leisure  ?  I  have  rather  an  interest- 
ing specimen  of  Child  Life  which  I  am 
keeping  for  your  inspection." 

During  the  short  period  which  had 
elapsed  between  the  stranger's  arrival 
and  the  departure  of  First  Readers,  the 
new-comer  had  undergone  an  entire 
change  of  manner.  Not  that  he  had 
softened  toward  his  little  future  com- 
panions. Rather  he  grew  in  hatred  and 
vindictiveness  as  the  busy  morning  pro- 
gressed. It  was  his  attitude  toward  Miss 
Bailey  which  changed.  In  the  Prin- 
cipal's office  and  on  the  way  through  the 
75 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

halls  he  had  seemed  to  waver  on  the 
brink  of  friendliness.  But  he  had  sat 
beside  her  desk  and  had  seen  her  moving 
up  and  down  through  the  narrow  streets 
of  her  kingdom,  encouraging  here,  laugh- 
ing there,  explaining  with  patient  care  and 
detail,  laying  a  friendly  hand  on  bent 
little  shoulders  and  setting  hair  ribbons 
more  jauntily  erect — behaving,  in  fact, 
with  a  freedom  and  affection  most  evi- 
dently reflected  and  magnified  by  her 
subjects.  And  as  he  watched  her  his 
little  mouth  lost  all  its  softness,  and  the 
hard,  inscrutable  look  disfigured  him 
again. 

When  Mr.  Eissler,  in  response  to  the 
summons,  opened  the  door,  the  new- 
comer's back  was  toward  it.  He  wheeled 
at  the  sound,  and  clear  and  quick  he 
lashed  out  his  single  phrase. 

Miss  Bailey  chanced  to  be  looking  at 
her  old  friend,  and  at  the  child's  voice 
76 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

saw  him  cringe  and  shrink  as  if  from  a 
blow. 

"There  it  is  again,"  she  cried.  "That's 
all  we  can  get  him  to  say.  Tell  me,  Mr. 
Eissler,  what  does  it  mean?" 

She  got  no  answer. 

The  man,  in  all  the  dignity  of  his  cut- 
away and  his  white  linen,  was  glaring  at 
the  child,  and  the  child,  in  his  ridiculous 
rags,  pitiful,  starved,  and  dirty,  was  look- 
ing the  man  over  from  top  to  toe  with 
contemptuous,  careless  eyes.  They  stood 
so  for  some  space,  and  it  was  the  man 
who  turned  away. 

"I  will  not  pretend  not  to  understand," 
said  he  to  Teacher;  "but  I  must  decline 
to  translate  those  words.  They  bring 
back — they  bring  back!  Ah,  God!  what 
they  bring  back!" 

"Ah,  yes,  I  know!"  said  Miss  Bailey, 
in  vague  but  ready  sympathy.  "  I'm  very, 
very  sorry." 

77 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

While  this  conversation  was  in  progress 
its  object  was  wandering  about  Room  18, 
surveying  its  pictures,  the  canary,  the 
gold-fish  bowl,  and  the  flowery  window- 
boxes  with  a  blase  air.  Occasionally  he 
glanced  at  Miss  Bailey  with  unfriendly 
disillusionment.  And  upon  one  of  these 
occasions  Mr.  Eissler,  at  Teacher's  re- 
quest, asked  him  his  name. 

The  boy  answered  at  greater  length 
than  before,  but,  judging  by  the  man's 
face,  in  equally  offensive  language,  and 
Mr.  Eissler  turned  to  Miss  Bailey. 

"The  Principal  will  have  some  diffi- 
culty," said  he,  "in  finding  a  teacher  who 
could  speak  that  child's  language.  It's  Rus- 
sian, pure  Court  Russian,  and  not  spoken 
by  our  people  except  when  they  make  a 
special  study  of  it.    I  know  it,  a  little." 

"And  do  you  care  to  tell  me,"  asked 
Miss  Bailey,  "any  part  of  what  he  said 
just  now  ?" 

78 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

"He  says,"  the  man  replied,  "that  he 
will  not  speak  to  Jews  or  to — and  by 
this  he  means  you — a  seeming  Christian, 
who  makes  the  Jew  her  friend,  and  allows 
Jewish  babies  to  touch  her  hands.  You've 
read  of  the  Russian  autocratic  spirit. 
Well!  there  you  see  it.  Even  in  a  little 
child.    It's  born  in  them." 

"But  how  did  it  get  here?"  marvelled 
Miss  Bailey.  "Here,  on  the  East  Side 
of  New  York,  where  he  must  be  just 
about  as  popular  as  a  wolf  cub  ?" 

"Just  about,"  answered  Eissler.  "Of 
course  I'm  not  going  to  pretend  to  tell 
you  how  this  particular  specimen  got 
here.  We've  had  one  or  two  cases  where 
the  Jews,  driven  out,  kidnapped  a  Rus- 
sian child  in  revenge.  And  sometimes 
Nihilism  and  other  Socialistic  societies 
draw  Jew  and  Russian  together.  Per- 
haps the  boy's  mother  is  in  Siberia  digging 
sulphur.  Perhaps  she's  in  Petersburg, 
79 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


designing  becoming  mourning.  But  from 
the  look  of  the  boy  and  the  Truant 
Officer's  account  of  him,  I  feel  pretty  safe 
in  saying  she  isn't  about  here." 

"Yes,  I  think  you're  safe  in  that.  He 
hasn't  been  washed  in  a  month." 

"He'll  be  better  after  you've  had  him 
awhile,"  said  Mr.  Eissler  gallantly.  "I 
back  you  against  Hagenbeck  as  a  taming 
influence." 

"You  flatter  me,"  laughed  Miss  Bailey. 
"But  I'll  try.  Of  course  I'll  try."  But 
she  had  scant  opportunity. 

At  luncheon  time  the  new  little  boy 
departed  with  the  others,  and  at  after- 
noon session  he  was  not  among  them,  as 
by  law  prescribed. 

Day  after  day  passed  and  brought  no 
sign  of  him.  Teacher  reported  her  be- 
reavement to  the  authorities,  and  en- 
joined the  First  Readers  to  produce  the 
boy  or  tidings  of  him,  and  although  they 
80 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

failed  to  procure  the  boy,  the  tidings  were 
not  wanting.  They  rarely  are  in  East 
Side  affairs.  Morris  Mowgelewsky  was 
the  first  to  procure  definite  information. 

"  I  seen  that  boy,"  he  announced  with 
pride.  "I  seen  him  runnin'  down  Scan- 
nel  Street,  und  I  calls  und  says  you  likes 
you  should  see  him  in  the  school,  on'y  he 
runs  by  a  cellar  und  don't  says  nothings. 
He  puts  him  on  just  like  he  was  here, 
und  he  had  awful  cold  looks.  Teacher, 
he  ain't  got  no  hat,  and  the  snow  was 
coming  by  his  hair.  I  looks  in  the  cellar 
und  I  had  a  'fraid  over  it  the  whiles 
nothings  stand  in  it  on'y  push-carts  und 
boxes." 

"But  do  you  think  that  he  lives  in  the 
cellar?"  queried  Teacher. 

"He  don't  lives  at  all,"  replied  Morris. 
"He  don't  boards  even.  He  runs  all 
times." 

"Runs?"  queried  Miss  Bailey. 
81 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


" Teacher,  yiss,  ma'am,  runs.  He  lays 
in  sleep  by  barrels;  comes  somebody, 
und  he  runs.  He  lays  in  sleep  on  side- 
walks by  bak'ry  stores  where  heat  and 
smell  comes;  comes  somebody,  und  he 
runs.  He  lays  in  sleep  by  wagons,  maybe, 
maybe  by  stables  where  horses  is,  und 
straw.  All  places  what  he  could  he  lays 
in  sleep,  und  all  places  where  he  [lays 
comes  somebody  und  he  runs." 

"  What's  he  always  running  from, 
Morris?" 

"Teacher,  I  dun'no.  He  ain't  got  no 
'fraids.  I  guess  maybe  he  don't  likes 
nobody  shall  make  nothings  mit  him.  I 
tells  him  how  you  says  he  shall  come  on 
the  school,  und  what  you  think  ?  He  hits 
me  a  hack  in  mine  face,  und  runs  on  the 
cellar." 

"I'd  like  to  see  him  hit  me,"  said  Pat- 
rick Brennan,  son  of  the  Policeman  on 
the  Beat,  a  noble  scion  of  a  noble  sire. 
82 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

"Me  pop  he  wouldn't  stand  fer  no  funny 
play,"  and  urged  by  Miss  Bailey's  friendly 
attitude  toward  Morris,  he  boasted,  "I'll 
bring  him  to  school  if  ye  want  me  to;  I 
ain't  afraid  of  him."  And  one  afternoon 
some  days  later  he  did  appear  with  his 
"new  little  friend." 

It  had  taken  six  big  boys,  Patrick,  and 
the  janitor  to  secure  his  attendance,  and 
he  hardly  reaped  the  benefit  which  so 
much  effort  deserved,  for,  except  that  he 
was  thinner  and  in  a  wildly  blazing  pas- 
sion of  indignation,  his  second  attendance 
at  Room  18  was  much  like  his  first. 

Again  his  studies  were  interrupted  for 
several  days,  and  it  was  the  Truant  Officer 
who  next  restored  him  to  the  Halls  of 
Learning.  Between  these  two  appear- 
ances Morris  had  procured  further  intelli- 
gence. 

"That  new  boy,"  he  began  as  always, 
"that  new  boy  he  is  in  bizzness." 
83 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"So  that's  the  reason  that  he  fights 
against  school!"  cried  Teacher,  well  ac- 
customed to  the  interference  of  the  sweat 
shop.  "I'm  very  glad  to  know  his  * 
reason  for  staying  away.  I  was  begin- 
ning to  fear  he  was  not  happy  here — that 
he  didn't  like  us." 

"Teacher,  he  don't,"  said  Morris,  with 
the  beautiful  candor  which  adorned  all 
his  conversation.    "He  hates  us." 

"But  why,   why?"   demanded  Miss 
Bailey. 

"He  hates  the  childrens,"  the  still 
candid  Morris  explained,  "the  whiles  they 
is  Sheenies.  He  hates  you  the  whiles 
you  is  Krisht." 

"Rather  an  unfriendly  attitude  alto- 
gether," commented  Teacher.  "And  how 
do  you  know  he  hates  me  because  I'm 
a  Christian  ?" 

"My  mamma  tells  me  how  it  is.  She 
says  he  has  mads  the  whiles  you  is  Krisht 
84 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

und  makes  all  things  what  is  loving  mit 
Sheenies.  My  mamma  says  he  is  Rus- 
sians; und  Russians  they  don't  makes 
like  that  mit  Sheenies.  Teacher,  no 
ma'am,  loving  ain't  what  Russians  makes 
mit  us.  They  makes  all  things  what  is 
fierce." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  Constance 
Bailey,  and  then — 6 6  What  is  the  little 
boy's  business  ?" 

"Teacher,  he's  a  fire-lighter." 

"A  fire-lighter,"  echoed  Miss  Bailey, 
with  visions  of  arson  before  her  eyes. 
"A  fire-lighter,  did  you  say?" 

"Teacher,  yiss,  ma'am,  he  is  a  fire- 
lighter, but  sooner  he  wants  he  could  to 
come  on  the  school  the  whiles  he  ain't 
got  no  bizzness  on'y  Saturdays." 

And  then  Miss  Bailey  understood. 
She  had  heard  of  certain  stranded  waifs 
left  high  and  dry  when  the  ebb  of  Chris- 
tianity receded  before  the  flood  of  Juda- 
85 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

ism,  and  New  York's  great  East  Side, 
once  a  fashionable  district,  then  claimed 
by  a  thrifty  Irish  element,  became  a 
Ghetto.  It  was  the  Jewish  Sabbatical 
Law  which  gave  the  derelicts  an  oppor- 
tunity to  earn  a  few  pennies  every  Satur- 
day, for  no  orthodox  Jew  may  kindle  fire 
on  the  Sabbath.  And  no  frugal  Jew, 
even  in  the  impossible  circumstance  of 
being  able  to  afford  it,  will  keep  the  stove 
alight  all  through  Friday  night.  Hence 
he  employs  a  Christian  to  do  the  work 
he  would  not  stoop  to. 

And  this  was  the  occupation  of  that 
amazing  new  boy!  Miss  Bailey  clearly 
saw  the  path  of  her  duty,  and  it  led  her, 
the  lighter  of  fires  in  tow,  straight  to  the 
Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to 
Children.  For  some  days,  however,  this 
path  was  closed  to  her  conscientious  feet. 
The  boy  was  lost  again,  and  Miss  Bailey, 
who  took  the  welfare  of  her  charges  very 
86 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

much  to  heart,  was  seriously  distressed 
and  uneasy.  The  First  Readers  were 
enlisted  as  a  corps  of  detectives,  but 
though  they  prowled  in  likely  and  un- 
likely spots,  they  brought  no  news  of  the 
stranger. 

A  week  went  by.  The  Principal,  the 
Truant  Officer,  Patrick  Brennan's  father, 
were  all  informed  and  enlisted  in  the 
quest.  But  day  followed  day  empty  of 
news.  Mr.  Eissler  could  offer  no  sug- 
gestion, though  he  promised  that  if  the 
child  should  reappear  he  would  make 
further  and  more  patient  efforts  to  elicit 
some  information  from  him.  And  then 
quite  casually  one  afternoon  Sergeant 
Brennan  appeared  in  Room  18,  with  a 
bundle  of  rags  under  his  arm. 

"Here  he  is  for  you,  Miss,"  he  an- 
nounced, waving  away  her  acknowledg- 
ments with  a  stout  blue  arm  before  he  re- 
moved his  helmet  and  dried  his  heated 
87 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

brow.  "I  seen  him  several  times  since 
you  spoke  about  him,  but  never  run  him 
down  until  now." 

Again  the  child  was  thinner,  and  his 
likeness  to  a  hunted  animal  was  clearer, 
more  heart-breaking.  "And  how  should 
he  be  otherwise?"  reflected  Constance 
Bailey  as  she  realized  that,  partly  through 
her  bidding,  he  actually  had  been  persist- 
ently hunted  throughout  the  past  weeks. 

After  three  o'clock  when  the  First 
Readers,  including  the  loudly  objecting 
Board  of  Monitors,  had  been  sent  home, 
Miss  Bailey  secured  every  exit  save  the 
door  into  the  hall,  established  the  new 
boy  in  one  of  the  front  row  of  seats, 
locked  the  hall  door  upon  her  own  retreat, 
and  sought  Mr.  Eissler. 

"The  Russian  child  has  turned  up 
again,"  she  told  him.  "I've  had  him  in 
the  class  since  lunch  time,  and  I  never 
knew  of  so  disturbing  an  element.  A 
88 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

band  in  the  street,  a  piano  organ,  even 
the  passing  of  a  fire  engine,  would  have 
left  those  babies  calmer  than  his  mere 
presence  did.  Did  you  ever  see  a  poul- 
try yard  when  a  hawk  was  perched  in  a 
neighboring  tree  ?  Well,  there  you  have 
my  class  as  long  as  that  boy  is  in  the 
room.  Brainless!  Stupid!  Huddled  in 
their  seats!  I  declare  I  hardly  knew 
them.  And  he,  he  hardly  looked  at  one 
of  us." 

"He'll  look  at  me,"  said  Mr.  Eissler, 
picking  up  a  brass-bound  ruler.  "By- 
laws may  be  by-laws  " 

"No,  no,"  cried  Teacher,  "not  that.  I 
don't  think  I  could  bear  it.  And  as  for 
him,  he  would  either  kill  or  die.  He's 
almost  spent  with  rage  and  starvation.  I 
think  you'll  find  him  more  amenable 
than  he  was  before." 

Mr.  Eissler  did  not  find  him  at  all. 
Room  18  awaited  them,  pleasant,  orderly, 
89 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


and  empty.  Empty,  too,  was  the  whole 
great  building  and  all  the  rooms  they 
searched  through,  save  for  the  sweeper 
women  who  met  their  queries  blankly. 
They  had  noticed  no  boy. 

"Again!"  exclaimed  Miss  Bailey,  al- 
most tearfully,  as  they  returned.  "What 
shall  I  ever  do  about  him  ?  I  meant,  you 
know,  to  take  him  now,  this  very  after- 
noon, while  I  had  him,  up  to  the  Society's 
rooms  in  Twenty- third  Street." 

"How  often  has  he  been  here  alto- 
gether?" asked  Mr.  Eissler.  Teacher 
crossed  to  her  desk,  sat  down  at  it,  and 
commenced  to  turn  the  pages  of  the  Roll 
Book  with  listless  hand.  Mr.  Eissler 
stood  beside  her,  and  behind  them  both 
the  door  of  the  supply  closet  in  which 
all  class  necessities  were  stored  opened 
gently,  noiselessly,  inch  by  inch,  until  the 
Fire-lighter  stood  forth  with  a  sheet  of 
sulphur  matches  in  his  hand.  The  joy 
90 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

of  coming  vengeance  made  his  little  face 
look  very  old  as  he  advanced  upon  the 
unsuspecting  backs  of  his  enemies.  He 
struck  one  of  his  matches  upon  some 
inner  surface  of  his  rags,  and  as  Teacher 
pointed  and  Mr.  Eissler  stopped  to  ex- 
amine all  the  crosses  which  marked  one 
section  of  the  Roll  Book,  the  Fire-lighter 
held  the  match  to  the  hem  of  Miss  Bailey's 
heavy  walking  skirt.  It  burned  dully, 
and  the  child  had  shut  himself  into  the 
closet  again  before  the  smell  of  fire  was 
noticed  and  located. 

Then  alarmed  and  excited  was  Mr. 
Eissler,  but  not  reduced  to  panic.  In  a 
moment  he  had  smothered  the  smoulder, 
and  was  beating  off  the  sparks  with  his 
ruler. 

Miss  Bailey  just  then  chanced  to  turn 
toward  the  closet  door  and  saw  a  curl  of 
smoke  making  its  way  stealthily  through 
a  crack  in  one  of  the  panels.    Mr.  Eis- 
91 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

sler  saw  it  too,  threw  the  door  open, 
and  revealed  the  lost  child — his  rags  all 
smoking  and  smouldering  about  him. 
They  threw  Miss  Bailey's  heavy  ulster 
about  him,  and  rolled  him  upon  the  floor, 
patting  and  pressing  the  bundle  until 
they  were  quite  sure  that  no  fire  remained. 
Then  Teacher,  kneeling  down,  turned 
back  the  ulster.  Very  quiet  and  relaxed 
lay  her  problem. 

"Dead?"  she  questioned  in  terror. 

"Oh,  hardly.  Slip  your  hand  in  over 
his  heart." 

Teacher  did  so  and  breathed  again. 
"Beating,"  said  she,  and  withdrew  her 
hand,  and  in  her  cuff-link  was  entangled 
a  thin  string. 

"Gold,"  exclaimed  Eissler  instantly; 
"dirty,  but  gold." 

Miss  Bailey  drew  the  chain  out  further 
and  disclosed  a  flat  locket. 

"  Cut  it  off  and  keep  it  for  him,"  Eissler 
92 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

advised.  "I'm  going  to  ring  for  the  am- 
bulance, and  I  know  that  there  would  be 
precious  little  gold  left  on  him  by  the 
time  he  reached  the  ward.  I'll  send  one 
of  the  women  to  you  as  I  go."  And  so 
Miss  Bailey  sat  on  the  floor  and  regarded 
this  bitter  fruit  of  her  striving.  A  child — 
a  little  child,  hunted,  wounded,  as  far  as 
she  could  see  even  unto  death.  And  for 
the  thousandth  time  she  let  despair  roll 
over  her.  What  was  the  use?  What 
was  the  use  ? 

Some  time  later  up  in  the  dressing- 
room  she  was  removing  as  best  she  could 
the  marks  of  her  experience,  when  it  oc- 
curred to  her  to  examine  the  locket.  It 
was  a  thin  gold  affair  with  a  smudge  of 
dirt  upon  each  side  of  it,  and  she  devoted 
her  efforts  to  one  of  these  smudges.  She 
rubbed  it  with  a  towel,  and  stood  incredu- 
lous, carried  back  to  the  Mystery  Stories 
of  her  own  youth,  for  a  monogram  in 
93 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

diamonds  winked  and  twinkled  at  her. 
She  tried  the  other  side  and  unearthed  a 
coronet.  After  much  careful  search  she 
managed  to  open  the  locket.  And  the 
Mystery  held.  On  one  side  a  beautiful 
woman,  on  the  other  a  coil  of  baby  hair. 
All  was  as  it  should  be. 

As  she  finished  the  transition  from 
white  linen  to  street  attire,  she  pondered 
and  marvelled,  and  by  the  time  her  veil 
was  adjusted  she  had  decided  upon  her 
course.  This  was  a  case  for  some  one 
more  learned  in  Russian  ways  than  Mr. 
Eissler,  and  after  consulting  the  nearest 
directory  she  set  out  for  the  Russian  Con- 
sulate. There  her  demand  for  speech 
with  the  Consul  General  was  met  by  the 
Vice-Consul's  bland  regrets  that  his  prin- 
cipal was  invisible.  "Closeted,"  he  re- 
ported, dropping  his  voice  and  nodding 
toward  the  closed  door  behind  him, 
"with  His  Excellency,  Prince  Epifanoff." 
94 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

"Then,"  said  Miss  Bailey,  "perhaps 
you  can  tell  me  something  of  your  Rus- 
sian charities.  I  want  you  to  direct  me 
to  an  institution  where  a  sick  little  boy 
can  find  attention  and  understanding. 
He  has  sadly  lacked  both  these  many 
weeks,  I  fear." 

The  Vice-Consul,  a  man  of  heart,  lis- 
tened with  kindly  but  restrained  attention 
until  Miss  Bailey  produced  the  locket  on 
its  severed  chain.  Then  even  that  prac- 
tised diplomat  allowed  amazement  to 
overspread  him. 

"May  I  ask  you  to  wait  here  for  a 
moment?"  said  he,  and  it  took  him  little 
more  than  the  moment  he  appointed  to 
disappear  through  the  door  of  the  inner 
room,  and  to  reappear. 

"And  may  I  ask  you  now,"  said  he, 
"to  tell  these  very  interesting  facts  to 
Prince  Epifanoff  and  the  Consul?" 

Constance  Bailey  was  slightly  discon- 
95 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

certed  by  this  sudden  plunge  into 
diplomatic  waters,  and  by  the  extremely 
thorough,  though  always  courteous,  cross- 
examination  to  which  she  was  promptly 
subjected. 

"May  I  ask,"  she  demanded  on  her 
own  part  when  she  was  growing  weary  of 
always  answering,  "whether  you  have 
identified  the  miniature?" 

"We  have  indeed,"  answered  the  Am- 
bassador, a  large  but  otherwise  unalarm- 
ing  personage,  with  stiff  hair  arranged  a 
la  door-mat.  "And  not  only  so:  we  have 
been  searching  for  the  miniature  for 
almost  a  year.  Almost  a  year  ago  a  boy 
was  stolen  from  a  castle  in  the  northern 
part  of  Russia.  He  was  five  years  old, 
and  the  owner — since  the  assassination 
of  his  father — of  what  would  make  a 
whole  state  in  this  country  of  yours. 
The  Nihilists  were  suspected,  this  time 
with  some  reason,  as  it  transpired  that 
96 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING  ' 

one  of  their  important  members — a 
woman — had  obtained  employment  in 
the  castle.  She  and  the  child  vanished 
together.  There  was  little  hope  that  the 
young  Prince  would  escape  his  father's 
fate,  but  in  the  absence  of  any  proof  of 
his  death  the  whole  Russian  secret  ser- 
vice and  the  Consular  Service  were  noti- 
fied. It  was  just  possible,  you  see,  that 
his  captors  would  try  to  use  him  as  a 
hostage  or  as  the  price  of  some  concession. 
The  woman  was  stopped  at  the  frontier. 
Unfortunately  she  was — accidentally,  you 
understand — killed  before  she  had  ac- 
counted for  the  boy,  who  was  not  then 
with  her.  As  I  have  said,  all  this  occurred 
a  year  ago,  and  nothing  has  been  heard 
of  the  child.  You  can  imagine  the  dis- 
tracted grief  of  this  fair  lady,  his  mother, 
touching  the  miniature." 

"And  you  think,"  cried  Miss  Bailey, 

"that  my  little  Fire-lighter  " 

97 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"Is  the  owner  of  one  of  the  most  ex- 
alted titles  in  Russia,  and  one  of  the 
richest  estates.  He  wore  this  locket  when 
he  was  abducted.  But  we  are  letting 
time  pass.  May  I  ask  you" — this  to  the 
Consul — "to  order  my  car?  His  High- 
ness must  be  removed  at  once  into  suit- 
able surroundings." 

"Then  my  mission  is  accomplished," 
said  Miss  Bailey,  and  rose  to  take  her 
leave.  But  never  had  she  encountered 
cordiality  so  insistent  as  these  courteous 
gentlemen  then  exhibited.  She  must, 
she  really  must,  go  to  the  hospital  with 
them  and  see  the  end  of  the  affair.  In 
vain  she  pleaded  other  engagements,  and 
promised  to  telephone  later  in  the  even- 
ing to  hear  whether  the  Prince's  interview 
with  the  waif  had  corroborated  the  evi- 
dence of  the  locket.  She  was  offered  the 
use  of  the  official  telephone  for  the  break- 
ing of  her  engagements,  and  wThen  her 
98 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

hosts  left  her  alone  to  achieve  this  pur- 
pose, they  quite  calmly  locked  her  in. 

She  telephoned  some  trivial  sounding 
excuse  to  her  long-suffering  friend.  Ev- 
ery one  who  knew  her  well  was  accus- 
tomed to  interruptions  by  her  school 
interests.  And  as  she  listened  to  that 
friend's  wailing  remonstrance  she  was 
tempted  to  tell  the  truth.  "Locked  up 
in  the  Russian  Consulate!  Prisoner!  In- 
volved in  Court  mystery.  Obliged  to 
produce  a  Prince  of  the  blood  royal  or 
take  the  consequences."  Truly,  she  told 
herself  as  she  hung  the  receiver  on  its 
hook,  things  were  getting  rather  uncom- 
mon and  going  rather  quickly.  And  in 
that  moment  of  apprehension  she  strange- 
ly drew  comfort  from  the  undeniable  fit 
and  texture  of  her  new  tailor-made  suit, 
as  shown  forth  in  a  large  mirror  between 
the  window  and  the  door.  The  contem- 
plation of  these  encouragements  fortified 
99 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

her  until  the  return  of  her  jailors,  and 
during  the  ordeal  of  being  swept  through 
congested  traffic  by  the  side  of  a  Nicolai 
Sergieevitch  Epifanoff,  in  a  bright  red 
motor  car. 

Arriving  at  Gouverneur  Hospital,  she 
left  her  companions  in  consultation  with 
the  Matron  and  the  House  Surgeon,  while 
she  went  up  to  the  Children's  Ward  to 
prepare  the  mind  of  her  friend  and  some- 
time co-laborer,  Miss  McCarthy,  the 
Nurse-in-Charge.  There  was  generally 
a  First  Reader  or  so  under  Miss  Mc- 
Carthy's care,  and  the  two  young  women 
were  great  friends. 

"I  was  going  to  send  for  you,"  Miss 
McCarthy  began  when  they  had  moved 
a  little  away  from  the  door.  "You've 
sent  us  a  good  many  queer  cases,  but 
what  do  you  call  your  latest?" 

"That's  a  Russian  Prince  of  high 
degree,"  said  Teacher. 

100 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 


"Yes,  he  looked  like  one,"  laughed  the 
nurse.  "But  you  should  see  him  now 
that  he's  washed.  He's  really  not  burned 
at  all,"  she  amplified.  "Shock,  a  little; 
hunger,  more;  dirt,  most." 

"But  do  you  realize  what  I  tell  you? 
He's  a  Russian  Prince.  An  Ambassador 
and  a  Consul  or  two  have  come  to  fetch 
him.  They're  down  in  the  reception 
room,  and  I  came  up  to  make  sure  that 
you  had  him.  I  don't  know  what  they 
wTould  have  done  to  me  if  I  had  lost  him 
again." 

"Oh!  we  have  him,"  Miss  McCarthy 
assured  her  when  she  had  heard  a  few 
more  details  of  Miss  Bailey's  story,  and 
had  been  properly  impressed  thereby. 
"He's  there  in  the  third  bed  on  the  left. 
You  go  right  on  in.  I'll  go  down-stairs. 
They'll  want  me  if  he's  going  to  be 
transferred." 

Upon  the  smooth  pillow  of  the  third 
101 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

bed  there  lay  a  mass  of  bright  gold 
hair,  gleaming  even  in  the  faint  light  of 
the  shaded  electric  lamp.  And  the  hair 
surrounded  a  little  face  whose  every 
line  and  contour  was  beautified,  exalted. 
Teacher  turned,  incredulous,  to  make 
sure  that  she  was  right,  but  the  neighbor- 
ing beds  were  empty.  Only  up  at  the  far 
end  of  the  ward  were  there  other  shaded 
lights  and  a  gently  watchful  nurse. 

Teacher  sat  upon  the  chair  by  the 
bedside  and  watched  the  sleeping  Fire- 
lighter. He  moaned  a  little  moan.  Such 
a  tired  little  moan!  Ah,  this  everlasting 
barrier  of  speech !  Oh,  to  have  been  able, 
now  at  the  very  last,  to  explain  that  she 
was  not  a  demon  actuated  by  cruelty! 
But  she  did  not  dare  to  wake  him.  She 
knew  the  effect  which  the  mere  sight  of 
her  would  produce.  And  so  the  little 
Prince  slept  on  until  the  big  Prince  came 
softly  to  his  bedside. 

102 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 

Miss  Bailey  rose  and  relinquished  her 
chair.  The  big  man  noiselessly  took  her 
place,  and  she  stood  at  the  bed's  foot. 
The  man  looked  long  and  earnestly  at 
the  little  sleeping  face,  then  laid  his  hand 
on  the  soft  hair  and  uttered  a  short  name. 

Still  asleep,  the  child  answered.  And 
very  gently  the  man  asked  a  question. 
Then  the  baby  turned  and  opened  his 
eyes.  The  man  spoke  again.  The  little 
voice  answered  him,  and  Miss  Bailey 
left  them  alone  together. 

She  waited  in  the  hall,  and  presently 
Prince  Nicolai  Sergieevitch  Epifanoff 
joined  her  there. 

"You  have  been  instrumental,  under 
God,"  said  he,  "in  preserving  the  suc- 
cession of  one  of  our  noblest  houses. 
That  is  the  boy.  From  what  he  tells  me 
I  judge  that  the  woman  who  stole  him 
was  of  the  Jewish  race.  That  she  in- 
trusted him  to  the  care  of  a  friend  who, 
103 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Vith  children  of  her  own,  was  coming  to 
America.  I  suppose  she  was  to  have  re- 
claimed him  here.  We  know  why  she 
did  not.  And  we  can  only  surmise  that 
the  other  woman,  not  knowing  the  value 
of  her  hostage,  either  lost  or  deserted 
him.  Of  course  he  spent  all  his  time 
and  his  baby  ingenuity  in  trying  to 
get  away  from  her.  We  shall  never 
know  quite  definitely.  However,  my  dear 
young  lady,  we  have  him!  And  in  the 
name  of  the  great  country  for  which  I 
am  authorized  to  speak,  I  thank  you. 
Russia  will  remember  your  name  and 
your  great  service  when  other  gratitude 
which  now  protests  itself  to  you  more 
vehemently  has  quite  died  away." 

"But,"  said  Constance  Bailey,  "I  have 
not  yet  heard  the  true  name  of  my  little 
Fire-lighter." 

"Ah!  that,"  said  suave  Prince  Sergiee- 
vitch,  "is  a  thing  of  which  even  I  am  not 
104 


"A  BRAND  FROM  THE  BURNING" 


authorized  to  speak.  Your  service  was 
to  the  Nation." 

Some  months  later  Miss  Bailey  visited 
the  Russian  Consulate  again.  Her  pres- 
ence had  been  formally  requested,  and 
the  Consul  was  formally  awaiting  her. 
The  friendly  Vice-Consul  was  in  attend- 
ance, and  Madame  Consul  lent  her  genial 
presence  to  the  occasion. 

They  purred  congratulations;  the  whole 
staff  was  summoned,  and  the  Consul 
made  a  short  address,  which  produced 
great  enthusiasm  in  the  audience.  He 
then  pinned  a  scrap  of  red  ribbon  into  the 
button-hole  of  Miss  Bailey's  jacket,  and 
handed  her  a  small  white  leather  box. 
Inside  was  a  gem-encircled  miniature — 
gorgeous  and  blazing  as  the  sunshine 
broke  upon  it.  The  gentle-faced  Em- 
press of  all  the  Russias  smiled  sadly  out 
at  Constance  Bailey,  and  on  the  reverse, 
still  in  diamonds,  was  the  inscription: 
"For  Service.,, 

105 


FRIENDS 


FRIENDS 


MY  mamma,"  reported  Morris  Mow- 
gelewsky,  choosing  a  quiet  mo- 
ment during  a  writing  period  to  engage 
his  teacher's  attention,  "my  mamma 
likes  you  shall  come  on  mine  house  for 
see  her." 

"Very  well,  dear,"  answered  Miss 
Bailey  with  a  patience  born  of  many 
such  messages  from  the  parents  of  her 
small  charges.  " I  think  I  shall  have 
time  to  go  this  afternoon." 

"My  mamma,"  Morris  began  again, 
"she  says  I  shall  tell  you  'scuse  how  she 
don't  sends  you  no  letter.  She  couldn't 
to  send  no  letter  the  while  her  eyes  ain't 
healthy." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  Teacher, 
with  a  little  stab  of  regret  for  her  prompt 
109 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

acceptance  of  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky's  invi- 
tation; for  of  all  the  ailments  which  the 
children  shared  so  generously  with  their 
teacher,  Miss  Bailey  had  learned  to  dread 
most  the  many  and  painful  disorders  of 
the  eye.  She  knew,  however,  that  Mrs. 
Mowgelewsky  was  not  one  of  those  who 
utter  unnecessary  cries  for  help,  being  in 
this  regard,  as  in  many  others,  a  striking 
contrast  to  the  majority  of  parents  with 
whom  Miss  Bailey  came  in  contact. 

To  begin  with,  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky  had 
but  one  child — her  precious,  only  Morris. 
In  addition  to  this  singularity  she  was 
thrifty  and  neat,  intensely  self-respecting 
and  independent  of  spirit,  and  astonish- 
ingly outspoken  of  mind.  She  neither 
shared  nor  understood  the  gregarious 
spirit  w  hich  bound  her  neighbors  together 
and  is  the  lubricant  which  makes  East 
Side  crowding  possible  without  blood- 
shed. No  groups  of  chattering,  gesticu- 
110 


FRIENDS 

lating  matrons  ever  congregated  in  her 
Monroe  Street  apartment.  No  love  of 
gossip  ever  held  her  on  street  corners  or 
on  steps.  She  nourished  few  friendships 
and  fewer  acquaintanceships,  and  she 
welcomed  no  haphazard  visitor.  Her 
hospitalities  were  as  serious  as  her  man- 
ner; her  invitations  as  deliberate  as  her 
slow  English  speech. 

And  Miss  Bailey,  as  she  and  the  First 
Readers  followed  the  order  of  studies  laid 
down  for  them,  found  herself,  again  and 
again,  trying  to  imagine  what  the  days 
would  be  to  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky  if  her 
keen,  shrewd  eyes  were  to  be  darkened 
and  useless. 

At  three  o'clock  she  set  out  with  Mor- 
ris, leaving  the  Board  of  Monitors  to  set 
Room  18  to  rights  with  no  more  direct 
supervision  than  an  occasional  look  and 
word  from  the  stout  Miss  Blake,  whose 
kingdom  lay  just  across  the  hall.  And 
111 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

as  she  hurried  through  the  early  cold  of 
a  November  afternoon,  her  forebodings 
grew  so  lugubrious  that  she  was  almost 
relieved  at  last  to  learn  that 'Mrs.  Mowge- 
lewsky's  complaint  was  a  slow-forming 
cataract,  and  her  supplication,  that  Miss 
Bailey  would  keep  a  watchful  eye  upon 
Morris  while  his  mother  was  at  the  hos- 
pital undergoing  treatment  and  operation. 

"  But  of  course,"  Miss  Bailey  agreed, 
"I  shall  be  delighted  to  do  what  I  can, 
Mrs.  Mowgelewsky,  though  it  seems  to  me 
that  one  of  the  neighbors  " 

"Neighbors!"  snorted  the  matron; 
"what  you  think  the  neighbors  make  mit 
mine  little  boy?  They  got  four,  five 
dozens  childrens  theirselves.  They  ain't 
got  no  time  for  look  on  Morris.  They 
come  maybe  in  mine  house  und  break 
mine  dishes,  und  rubber  on  what  is  here, 
und  set  by  mine  furniture  und  talks. 
What  do  they  know  over  takin'  care  on 
112 


FRIENDS 

mine  house?  They  ain't  ladies.  They 
is  educated  only  on  the  front.  Me,  I 
was  raised  private  and  expensive  in 
Russia.  I  was  ladies.  Und  you  ist 
ladies.  You  ist  Krisht — that  is  too  bad 
— but  that  makes  mit  me  nothings.  I 
wants  you  shall  look  on  Morris." 

"But  I  can't  come  here  and  take  care 
of  him,"  Miss  Bailey  pointed  out.  "You 
see  that  yourself,  don't  you,  Mrs.  Mowge- 
lewsky?  I  am  sorry  as  I  can  be  about 
your  eyes,  and  I  hope  with  all  my  heart 
that  the  operation  will  be  successful.  But 
I  shouldn't  have  time  to  come  here  and 
take  care  of  things." 

"That  ain't  how  mine  mamma  means," 
Morris  explained.  He  was  leaning 
against  Teacher  and  stroking  her  muff 
as  he  spoke.  "Mine  mamma  means 
the  money." 

"That  ist  what  I  means,"  said  Mrs. 
Mowgelewsky,  nodding  her  ponderous 
113 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

head  until  her  quite  incredible  wig  slipped 
back  and  forth  up  on  it.  "  Morris  needs  he 
shall  have  money.  He  could  to  fix  the 
house  so  good  like  I  can.  He  don't  needs 
no  neighbors  rubberin'.  He  could  to  buy 
what  he  needs  on  the  store.  But  ten 
cents  a  day  he  needs.  His  papa  works 
by  Harlem.  He  is  got  fine  jobs,  und  he 
gets  fine  moneys,  but  he  couldn't  to  come 
down  here  for  take  care  of  Morris.  Und 
the  doctor  he  says  I  shall  go  now  on  the 
hospital.  Und  any  way,"  she  added 
sadly,  "I  ain't  no  good;  I  couldn't  to  see 
things.  He  says  I  shall  lay  in  the  hos- 
pital three  weeks,  maybe — that  is  twenty- 
one  days — und  for  Morris  it  is  two  dollars 
und  ten  cents.  I  got  the  money."  And 
she  fumbled  for  her  purse  in  various 
hiding-places  about  her  ample  person. 

"And  you  want  me  to  be  banker," 
cried  Miss  Bailey;  "to  keep  the  money  and 
give  Morris  ten  cents  a  day — is  that  it?" 
114 


FRIENDS 


"Sure,"  answered  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky. 

"It's  a  awful  lot  of  money,"  grieved 
Morris.  "Ten  cents  a  day  is  a  awful  lot 
of  money  for  one  boy." 

"No,  no,  my  golden  one,"  cried  his 
mother.  "It  is  but  right  that  thou 
shouldst  have  plenty  of  money,  und  thy 
teacher,  a  Christian  lady,  though  honest 
— und  what  neighbor  is  honest? — will 
give  thee  ten  cents  every  morning.  Be- 
hold, I  pay  the  rent  before  I  go,  und  with 
the  rent  paid  und  with  ten  cents  a  day 
thou  wilt  live  like  a  landlord." 

"Yes,  yes,"  Morris  broke  in,  evidently 
repeating  some  familiar  warning,  "und 
every  day  I  will  say  mine  prayers  und 
wash  me  the  face,  und  keep  the  neighbors 
out,  und  on  Thursdays  und  on  Sundays 
I  shall  go  on  the  hospital  for  see  you." 

"And  on  Saturdays,"  broke  in  Miss 
Bailey,  "you  will  come  to  my  house  and 
spend  the  day  with  me.  He's  too  little, 
115 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


Mrs.  Mowgelewsky,  to  go  to  the  syna- 
gogue alone." 

4 'That  could  be  awful  nice,"  breathed 
Morris.  "I  likes  I  shall  go  on  your  house. 
I  am  lovin'  much  mit  your  dog." 

"How?"  snorted  his  mother.  "Dogs! 
Dogs  ain't  nothing  only  foolishness. 
They  eats  something  fierce,  und  they 
don't  works." 

"That  iss  how  mine  mamma  thinks," 
Morris  hastened  to  explain,  lest  the  sen- 
sitive feelings  of  his  Lady  Paramount 
should  suffer.  "But  mine  mamma  she 
never  seen  your  dog.  He  iss  a  awful  nice 
dog;  I  am  lovin'  much  mit  him." 

"I  don't  needs  I  shall  see  him,"  said 
Mrs.  Mowgelewsky,  somewhat  tartly.  "I 
seen,  already,  lots  from  dogs.  Don't  you 
go  make  no  foolishness  mit  him.  Don't 
you  go  und  get  chawed  off  of  him." 

"Of  course  not,  of  course  not,"  Miss 
Bailey  hastened  to  assure  her;  "he  will 
116 


FRIENDS 


only  play  with  Rover  if  I  should  be  busy 
or  unable  to  take  him  out  with  me.  He'll 
be  safer  at  my  house  than  he  would  be  on 
the  streets,  and  you  wouldn't  expect  him 
to  stay  in  the  house  all  day." 

After  more  parley  and  many  warnings 
the  arrangement  was  completed.  Miss 
Bailey  was  intrusted  with  two  dollars 
and  ten  cents,  and  the  censorship  of  Mor- 
ris. A  day  or  so  later  Mrs.  Mowgelew- 
sky  retired,  indomitable,  to  her  darkened 
room  in  the  hospital,  and  the  neighbors 
were  inexorably  shut  out  of  her  apart- 
ment. All  their  offers  of  help,  all  their 
proffers  of  advice  were  politely  refused  by 
Morris,  all  their  questions  and  visits  po- 
litely dodged.  And  every  morning  Miss 
Bailey  handed  her  Monitor  of  the  Gold 
Fish  Bowl  his  princely  stipend,  adding  to 
it  from  time  to  time  some  fruit  or  other 
uncontaminated  food,  for  Morris  was  re- 
ligiously the  strictest  of  the  strict,  and 
117 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

could  have  given  cards  and  spades  to 
many  a  minor  rabbi  on  the  intricacies  of 
Kosher  law. 

The  Saturday  after  his  mother's  de- 
parture Morris  spent  in  the  enlivening 
companionship  of  the  antiquated  Rover, 
a  collie  who  no  longer  roved  farther  than 
his  own  back  yard,  and  who  accepted 
Morris's  frank  admiration  with  a  noble 
condescension  and  a  few  rheumatic  gam- 
bols. Miss  Bailey's  mother  was  also 
hospitable,  and  her  sister  did  what  she 
could  to  amuse  the  quaint  little  child 
with  the  big  eyes,  the  soft  voice,  and  the 
pretty  foreign  manners.  But  Morris  pre- 
ferred Rover  to  any  of  them,  except  per- 
haps the  cook,  who  allowed  him  to  pre- 
pare a  luncheon  for  himself  after  his  own 
little  rites. 

Everything  had  seemed  so  pleasant  and 
so  successful  that  Miss  Bailey  looked 
upon  a  repetition  of  this  visit  as  a  matter 
118 


FRIENDS 


of  course,  and  was  greatly  surprised  on 
the  succeeding  Friday  afternoon  when  the 
Monitor  of  the  Gold  Fish  Bowl  said  that 
he  intended  to  spend  the  next  day  at  home. 

"Oh,  no!"  she  remonstrated,  "you 
mustn't  stay  at  home.  I'm  going  to  take 
you  out  to  the  Park  and  we  are  going  to 
have  all  kinds  of  fun.  Wouldn't  you 
rather  go  and  see  the  lions  and  the  ele- 
phants with  me  than  stay  at  home  all  by 
yourself?" 

For  some  space  Morris  was  a  prey  to 
silence,  then  he  managed  by  a  consuming 
effort : 

"I  ain't  by  mineself." 

"Has  your  father  come  home?"  said 
Teacher. 

"No,  ma'am." 

"And  surely  it's  not  a  neighbor.  You 
remember  what  your  mother  said  about 
the  neighbors,  how  you  were  not  to  let 
them  in." 

119 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"It  ain't  neighbors,"  said  Morris. 

"Then  who — ?"  began  Miss  Bailey. 

Morris  raised  his  eyes  to  hers,  his 
beautiful,  black,  pleading  eyes,  praying 
for  the  understanding  and  the  sympathy 
which  had  never  failed  him  yet.  "It's  a 
friend,"  he  answered. 

"Nathan  Spiderwitz?"  she  asked. 

Morris  shook  his  head,  and  gave 
Teacher  to  understand  that  the  Monitor 
of  the  Window  Boxes  came  under  the 
ban  of  neighbor. 

"Well,  who  is  it,  dearest?"  she  asked 
again.    "Is  it  any  one  that  I  know?" 

"No,  ma'am." 

"None  of  the  boys  in  the  school?" 
"No,  ma'am." 

"Have  you  known  him  long?" 
"No,  ma'am." 

"Does  your  mother  know  him?" 
"Oh,  Teacher,  no,  ma'am!  mine  mam- 
ma don't  know  him." 

120 


FRIENDS 


"Well,  where  did  you  meet  him?" 

"Teacher,  on  the  curb.  Over  yester- 
day on  the  night,"  Morris  began,  seeing 
that  explanation  was  inevitable.  "I  lays 
on  mine  bed,  und  I  thinks  how  mine 
mamma  has  got  a  sickness,  und  how 
mine  papa  is  by  Harlem,  und  how  I  ain't 
got  nobody  beside  of  me.  Und,  Teacher, 
it  makes  me  cold  in  mine  heart.  So  I 
couldn't  to  lay  no  more,  so  I  puts  me  on 
mit  mine  clothes  some  more,  und  I  goes 
by  the  street  the  while  peoples  is  there, 
und  I  needs  I  shall  see  peoples.  So  I 
sets  by  the  curb,  und  mine  heart  it  go 
und  it  go  so  I  couldn't  to  feel  how  it  go 
in  mine  inside.  Und  I  thinks  on  my 
mamma,  how  I  seen  her  mit  bangages 
on  the  face,  und  mine  heart  it  goes  some 
more.  Und,  Teacher,  Missis  Bailey,  I 
cries  over  it." 

"Of  course  you  did,  honey,"  said 
Teacher,  putting  her  arm  about  him. 
121 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"Poor,  little,  lonely  chap!  Of  course  you 
cried." 

"Teacher,  yiss,  ma'am;  it  ain't  fer 
boys  they  shall  cry,  but  I  cries  over  it. 
Und  soon  something  touches  me  by  mine 
side,  und  I  turns  und  mine  friend  he  was 
sittin'  by  side  of  me.  Und  he  don't  say 
nothings,  Teacher;  no,  ma'am;  he  don't 
say  nothings,  only  he  looks  on  me,  und  in 
his  eyes  stands  tears.  So  that  makes  me 
better  in  mine  heart,  und  I  don't  cries  no 
more.  I  sets  und  looks  on  mine  friend, 
und  mine  friend  he  sets  und  looks  on  me 
mit  smilin'  looks.  So  I  goes  by  mine 
house,  und  mine  friend  he  comes  by  mine 
house,  too,  und  I  lays  by  mine  bed,  und 
mine  friend  he  lays  by  mine  side.  Und 
all  times  in  that  night  sooner  I  open 
mine  eyes  und  thinks  on  how  mine 
mamma  is  got  a  sickness,  und  mine  papa 
is  by  Harlem,  mine  friend  he  is  by  mine 
side,  und  I  don't  cries.  I  don't  cries 
122 


FRIENDS 


never  no  more  the  whiles  mine  friend  is 
by  me.  Und  I  couldn't  to  go  on  your 
house  to-morrow  the  whiles  I  don't  know 
if  mine  friend  likes  Rover." 

"Of  course  he'd  like  him,"  cried  Miss 
Bailey.  "Rover  would  play  with  him 
just  as  he  plays  with  you." 

"No,  ma'am,"  Morris  maintained; 
"mine  friend  is  too  little  for  play  mit 
Rover." 

"Is  he  such  a  little  fellow?" 

"Yiss,  ma'am;  awful  little." 

"And  has  he  been  with  you  ever  since 
the  day  before  yesterday?" 

"Teacher,  yiss,  ma'am." 

"Does  he  seem  to  be  happy  and  all 
right?" 

"Teacher,  yiss,  ma'am." 

"But,"  asked  Miss  Bailey,  suddenly 
practical,  "what  does  the  poor  little 
fellow  eat?  Of  course  ten  cents  would 
buy  a  lot  of  food  for  one  boy,  but  not  so 
very  much  for  two." 

123 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"Teacher,  no,  ma'am,"  says  Morris; 
" it  ain't  so  very  much." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Miss  Bailey,  "sup- 
pose I  give  you  twenty  cents  a  day  as  long 
as  a  little  strange  friend  is  with  you." 

"That  could  to  be  awful  nice,"  Morris 
agreed;  "und,  Missis  Bailey,"  he  went 
on,  "sooner  you  don't  needs  all  yours 
lunch  mine  friend  could  eat  it,  maybe." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  cried;  "it's 
ham  to-day." 

"That  don't  make  nothings  mit  mine 
friend,"  said  Morris;  "he  likes  ham." 

"Now,  Morris,"  said  Miss  Bailey  very 
gravely,  as  all  the  meanings  of  this  an- 
nouncement spread  themselves  before  her, 
"this  is  a  very  serious  thing.  You  know 
how  your  mother  feels  about  strangers, 
and  you  know  how  she  feels  about  Chris- 
tians, and  what  will  she  say  to  you — and 
what  will  she  say  to  me — when  she  hears 
that  a  strange  little  Christian  is  living 
with  you  ?  Of  course,  dearie,  I  know 
124 


FRIENDS 


it's  nice  for  you  to  have  company,  and  I 
know  that  you  must  be  dreadfully  lonely 
in  the  long  evenings,  but  I'm  afraid  your 
mother  will  not  be  pleased  to  think  of 
your  having  somebody  to  stay  with  you. 
Wouldn't  you  rather  come  to  my  house  and 
live  there  all  the  time  until  your  mother 
is  better?  You  know,"  she  added  as  a 
crowning  inducement,  "Rover  is  there." 

But  Morris  betrayed  no  enthusiasm. 
"I  guess,"  said  he,  "I  ain't  lovin'  so 
awful  much  mit  Rover.  He  iss  too  big. 
I  am  likin'  little  dogs  mit  brown  eyes, 
what  walks  by  their  legs  und  carries 
things  by  their  mouths.  Did  you  ever 
see  dogs  like  that?"  . 

6 6  In  the  circus,"  answered  Teacher. 
"Where  did  you  see  them?" 

"A  boy  by  our  block,"  answered  Mor- 
ris, "is  got  one.  He  is  lovin'  much  mit 
that  dog  und  that  dog  is  lovin'  much  mit 
him." 

125 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"Well,  now,  perhaps  you  could  teach 
Rover  to  walk  on  his  hind  legs,  and  carry 
things  in  his  mouth,"  suggested  Teacher; 
"and  as  for  this  new  little  Christian 
friend  of  yours  " 

"I  don't  know  be  he  a  Krisht,"  Morris 
admitted  with  reluctant  candor;  "he 
ain't  said  nothin'  over  it  to  me.  On'y  a 
Irisher  lady  what  lives  by  our  house,  she 
says  mine  friend  is  a  Irisher." 

"Very  well,  dear;  then  of  course  he's 
a  Christian,"  Miss  Bailey  assured  him, 
"and  I  shan't  interfere  with  you  to- 
morrow— you  may  stay  at  home  and  play 
with  him.  But  we  can't  let  it  go  on,  you 
know.  This  kind  of  thing  never  would 
do  when  your  mother  comes  back  from 
the  hospital.  She  might  not  want  your 
friend  in  the  house.  Have  you  thought 
of  that  at  all,  Morris?  You  must  make 
your  friend  understand  it." 

"I  tells  him,"  Morris  promised;  "I 
126 


FRIENDS 

don't  know  can  he  understand.  He's 
pretty  little,  only  that's  how  I  tells  him 
all  times." 

' '  Then  tell  him  once  again,  honey," 
Miss  Bailey  advised,  "and  make  him 
understand  that  he  must  go  back  to  his 
own  people  as  soon  as  your  mother  is 
well.  Where  are  his  own  people  ?  I 
can't  understand  how  any  one  so  little 
could  be  wandering  about  with  no  one 
to  take  care  of  him." 

"Teacher,  I'm  takin'  care  of  him," 
Morris  pointed  out. 

All  that  night  and  all  the  succeeding 
day  Miss  Bailey's  imagination  reverted 
again  and  again  to  the  two  little  ones 
keeping  house  in  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky's 
immaculate  apartment.  Even  increasing 
blindness  had  not  been  allowed  to  inter- 
fere with  sweeping  and  scrubbing  and 
dusting,  and  when  Teacher  thought  of 
that  patient  matron,  as  she  lay  in  her  hos- 
127 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

pital  cot  trusting  so  securely  to  her  Chris- 
tian friend's  guardianship  of  her  son  and 
home,  she  fretted  herself  into  feeling  that 
it  was  her  duty  to  go  down  to  Monroe 
Street  and  investigate. 

There  was  at  first  no  sound  when,  after 
climbing  endless  stairs,  she  came  to  Mrs. 
Mowgelewsky's  door.  But  as  the  thump- 
ing of  the  heart  and  the  singing  in  her 
ears  abated  somewhat,  she  detected  Mor- 
ris's familiar  treble. 

"  Bread,"  it  said,  "iss  awful  healthy 
for  you,  only  you  dasn't  eat  it  'out  chew- 
in'.  I  never  in  my  world  seen  how  you 
eats." 

Although  the  words  were  admonitory, 
they  lost  all  didactic  effect  by  the  wealth 
of  love  and  tenderness  which  sang  in  the 
voice.  There  was  a  note  of  happiness 
in  it,  too,  a  throb  of  pure  enjoyment 
quite  foreign  to  Teacher's  knowledge  of 
this  sad-eyed  little  charge  of  hers.  She 
128 


FRIENDS 


rested  against  the  door  frame,  and  Morris 
went  on: 

"I  guess  you  don't  know  what  iss  po- 
lite. You  shall  better  come  on  the  school, 
und  Miss  Bailey  could  to  learn  you  what 
iss  polite  and  healthy  fer  you.  No,  you 
couldn't  to  have  no  meat!  No,  sir!  No, 
ma'am!  You  couldn't  to  have  no  meat 
'til  I  cuts  it  fer  you.  You  could  to, 
maybe,  make  yourself  a  sickness  und  a 
bashfulness." 

Miss  Bailey  put  her  hand  on  the  door 
and  it  yielded  noiselessly  to  her  touch, 
and  revealed  to  her  guardian  eyes  her 
ward  and  his  little  friend.  They  were 
seated  vis-a-vis  at  the  table;  everything 
was  very  neat  and  clean  and  most  prop- 
erly set  out.  A  little  lamp  was  burning 
clearly.  Morris's  hair  was  parted  for 
about  an  inch  back  from  his  forehead  and 
sleeked  wetly  down  upon  his  brow.  The 
guest  had  evidently  undergone  similar 
129 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

preparation  for  the  meal.  Each  had  a 
napkin  tied  around  his  neck,  and  as 
Teacher  watched  them,  Morris  carefully 
prepared  his  guest's  dinner,  while  the 
guest,  an  Irish  terrier,  with  quick  eyes 
and  one  down-flopped  ear,  accepted  his 
admonishings  with  a  good-natured  grace, 
and  watched  him  with  an  adoring  and 
confiding  eye. 

The  guest  was  first  to  detect  the 
stranger's  presence.  He  seized  a  piece 
of  bread  in  his  teeth,  jumped  to  the 
ground,  and  walking  up  to  Teacher  on 
his  hind  legs,  hospitably  dropped  the  re- 
freshment at  her  feet. 

"Oh!  Teacher!  Teacher!"  cried  Mor- 
ris, half  in  dismay  at  discovery,  and  half 
in  joy  that  this  so  sure  confidant  should 
share  his  secret  and  appreciate  his  friend. 
"Oh!  Teacher!  Missis  Bailey!  this  is 
the  friend  what  I  was  telling  you  over. 
See  how  he  walks  on  his  feet!  See  how 
130 


FRIENDS 

he  has  got  smilin'  looks!  See  how  he 
carries  somethings  by  his  teeth!  All 
times  he  makes  like  that.  Rover,  he 
don't  carries  nothin's,  und  gold  fishes, 
they  ain't  got  no  feet  even.  On'y  Izzie 
could  to  make  them  things." 

"Oh,  is  his  name  Izzie?"  asked  Miss 
Bailey,  grasping  at  this  conversational 
straw  and  shaking  the  paw  which  the 
stranger  was  presenting  to  her.  "And 
this  is  the  friend  you  told  me  about? 
You  let  me  think,"  she  chided,  with  as 
much  severity  as  Morris  had  shown  to 
his  Izzie,  "that  he  was  a  boy." 

"I  had  a  'fraid,"  said  the  Monitor  of 
the  Gold  Fish  Bowl  frankly. 

So  had  Teacher  as  she  reviewed  the 
situation  from  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky's  chair 
of  state,  and  watched  the  friends  at  sup- 
per. It  was  a  revelation  of  solicitude  on 
one  side,  and  patient  gratitude  on  the 
other.  Morris  ate  hardly  anything,  and 
131 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

was  soon  at  Teacher's  knee — Izzie  was  in 
her  lap — discussing  ways  and  means. 

He  refused  to  entertain  any  plan 
which  would  separate  him  immediately 
from  Izzie,  but  he  was  at  last  brought  to 
see  the  sweet  reasonableness  of  prepar- 
ing his  mother's  mind  by  degrees  to  ac- 
cept another  member  to  the  family. 

"Und  he  eats,"  his  protector  was 
forced  to  admit — "he  eats  somethin' 
fierce,  Missis  Bailey;  as  much  like  a 
man  he  eats.  Und  my  mamma,  I  don't 
know  what  will  she  say.  She  won't  leave 
me  I  shall  keep  him;  from  long  I  had  a 
little  bit  of  a  dog,  und  she  wouldn't  to 
leave  me  I  should  keep  him,  und  he  didn't 
eat  so  much  like  Izzie  eats,  neither." 

"And  I  can't  very  wTell  keep  him," 
said  Miss  Bailey  sadly,  "because,  you 
see,  there  is  Rover.  Rover  mightn't  like 
it.  But  there  is  one  thing  I  can  do:  I'll 
keep  him  for  a  few  days  when  your 
132 


FRIENDS 


mother  comes  back,  and  then  we'll  see, 
you  and  I,  if  we  can  persuade  her  to  let 
you  have  him  always." 

"She  wouldn't  never  to  do  it,"  said 
Morris  sadly.  "That  other  dog,  didn't 
I  told  you  how  he  didn't  eat  so  much  like 
Izzie,  and  she  wouldn't  to  leave  me  have 
him.    That's  a  cinch." 

"Oh!  don't  say  that  word,  dear,"  cried 
Teacher.  "And  we  can  only  try.  We'll 
do  our  very,  very  best." 

This  guilty  secret  had  a  very  dampen- 
ing effect  upon  the  joy  with  which  Morris 
watched  for  his  mother's  recovery.  Upon 
the  day  set  for  her  return,  he  was  a  miser- 
able battle-field  of  love  and  duty.  Early 
in  the  morning  Izzie  had  been  transferred 
to  Miss  Bailey's  yard.  Rover  was  chained 
to  his  house,  Izzie  was  tied  to  the  wall  at 
a  safe  distance  from  him,  and  they  pro- 
ceeded to  make  the  day  hideous  for  the 
whole  neighborhood. 

133 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Morris  remained  at  home  to  greet  his 
mother,  received  her  encomiums,  cooked 
the  dinner,  and  set  out  for  afternoon 
school  with  a  heavy  heart  and  a  heavier 
conscience.  Nothing  had  occurred  in  those 
first  hours  to  show  any  change  in  Mrs. 
Mowgelewsky's  opinion  of  home  pets; 
rather  she  seemed,  in  contrast  to  the  mild 
and  sympathetic  Miss  Bailey,  more  than 
ever  dictatorial  and  dogmatic. 

At  a  quarter  after  three,  the  gold  fish 
having  received  perfunctory  attention, 
and  the  Board  of  Monitors  being  left 
again  to  do  their  worst,  unguarded,  Mor- 
ris and  Teacher  set  out  to  prepare  Mrs. 
Mowgelewsky's  mind  for  the  adoption 
of  Izzie.  They  found  it  very  difficult. 
Mrs.  Mowgelewsky,  restored  of  vision, 
was  so  hospitable,  so  festive  in  her 
elephantine  manner,  so  loquacious  and 
so  self-congratulatory,  that  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  insert  even  the  tiniest  conversa- 
134 


FRIENDS 


tional  wedge  into  the  structure  of  her 
monologue. 

Finally  Miss  Bailey  managed  to  catch 
her  attention  upon  financial  matters. 
"You  gave  me,"  she  said,  "two  dollars 
and  ten  cents,  and  Morris  has  managed 
so  beautifully  that  he  has  not  used  it  all, 
and  has  five  cents  to  return  to  you.  He's  a 
very  wonderful  little  boy,  Mrs.  Mowgelew- 
sky,"  she  added,  smiling  at  her  favorite 
to  give  him  courage. 

"He  iss  a  good  boy,"  Mrs.  Mowgelew- 
sky  admitted.  "Don't  you  get  lonesome 
sometimes  by  yourself  here,  huh?" 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Bailey,  "he  wasn't 
always  alone." 

"No?"  queried  the  matron  with  a 
divided  attention.  She  was  looking  for 
her  purse,  in  which  she  wished  to  stow 
Morris's  surplus. 

"No,"  said  Teacher ; "  I  was  here  once  or 

twice.  And  then  a  little  friend  of  his  " 

135 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"Friend!"  the  mother  repeated  with  a 
glare;  "was  friends  here  in  mine  house  ?" 

Miss  Bailey  began  a  purposely  vague 
reply,  but  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky  was  not  lis- 
tening to  her.  She  had  searched  the 
pockets  of  the  gown  she  wore,  then 
various  other  hiding-places  in  the  region 
of  its  waist  line,  then  a  large  bag  of  mat- 
tress covering  which  she  wore  under  her 
skirt.  Ever  hurriedly  and  more  hurriedly 
she  repeated  this  performance  two  or 
three  times,  and  then  proceeded  to  shake 
and  wring  the  out-door  clothing  which 
she  had  worn  that  morning. 

"Gott!"  she  broke  out  at  last,  "mine 
Gott!  mine  Gott!  it  don't  stands."  And 
she  began  to  peer  about  the  floor  with 
eyes  not  yet  quite  adjusted.  Morris 
easily  recognized  the  symptoms. 

"She's  lost  her  pocket-book,"  he  told 
Miss  Bailey. 

"Yes,  I  lost  it,"  wailed  Mrs.  Mowgelew- 
136 


FRIENDS 


sky,  and  then  the  whole  party  participated 
in  the  search.  Over  and  under  the  fur- 
niture, the  carpets,  the  bed,  the  stove,  over 
and  under  everything  in  the  apartment 
went  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky  and  Morris. 
All  the  joy  of  home-coming  and  of  well- 
being  was  darkened  and  blotted  out  by 
this  new  calamity.  And  Mrs.  Mowgelew- 
sky beat  her  breast  and  tore  her  hair,  and 
Constance  Bailey  almost  wept  in  sym- 
pathy. But  the  pocket-book  was  gone,  ab- 
solutely gone,  though  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky 
called  Heaven  and  earth  to  witness  that 
she  had  had  it  in  her  hand  when  she 
came  in. 

Another  month's  rent  was  due;  the 
money  to  pay  it  was  in  the  pocket-book. 
Mr.  Mowgelewsky  had  visited  his  wife  on 
Sunday,  and  had  given  her  all  his  earn- 
ings as  some  salve  to  the  pain  of  her  eyes. 
Eviction,  starvation,  every  kind  of  terror 
and  disaster  were  thrown  into  Mrs. 
137 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Mowgelewsky's  wailing,  and  Morris 
proved  an  able  second  to  his  mother. 

Miss  Bailey  was  doing  frantic  book- 
keeping in  her  charitable  mind,  and 
was  wondering  how  much  of  the  loss 
she  might  replace.  She  was  about  to 
suggest  as  a  last  resort  that  a  search 
should  be  made  of  the  dark  and  crannied 
stairs,  where  a  purse,  if  the  Fates  were 
very,  very  kind,  might  lie  undiscovered 
for  hours,  when  a  dull  scratching  made 
itself  heard  through  the  general  lamen- 
tation. It  came  from  a  point  far  down 
on  the  panel  of  the  door,  and  the 
same  horrible  conviction  seized  upon 
Morris  and  upon  Miss  Bailey  at  the 
same  moment. 

Mrs.  Mowgelewsky  in  her  frantic  round 
had  approached  the  door  for  the  one- 
hundredth  time,  and  with  eyes  and  mind 
far  removed  from  what  she  was  doing,  she 
turned  the  handle.  And  entered  Izzie, 
138 


FRIENDS 

beautifully  erect  upon  his  hind  legs,  with 
a  yard  or  two  of  rope  trailing  behind  him, 
and  a  pocket-book  fast  in  his  teeth. 

Blank,  pure  surprise  took  Mrs.  Mowge- 
lewsky  for  its  own.  She  staggered  back 
into  a  chair,  fortunately  of  heavy  architec- 
ture, and  stared  at  the  apparition  before 
her.  Izzie  came  daintily  in,  sniffed  at 
Morris,  sniffed  at  Miss  Bailey,  sniffed  at 
Mrs.  Mowgelewsky's  ample  skirts,  iden- 
tified her  as  the  owner  of  the  pocket-book, 
laid  it  at  her  feet,  and  extended  a  paw 
to  be  shaken. 

"Mine  Gott!"  said  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky, 
"what  for  a  dog  iss  that  ?"  She  counted 
her  wealth,  shook  Izzie's  paw,  and  then 
stooped  forward,  gathered  him  into  her 
large  embrace,  and  cried  like  a  baby. 
"Mine  Gott!  Mine  Gott!"  she  wailed 
again,  and  although  she  spent  five  min- 
utes in  apparent  effort  to  evolve  another 
and  more  suitable  remark,  her  research 
139 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

met  with  no  greater  success  than  the 
addition : 

"He  ain't  a  dog  at  all;  he  iss  friends." 

Miss  Bailey  had  been  sent  to  an  emi- 
nently good  college,  and  had  been  in- 
structed long  and  hard  in  psychology,  so 
that  she  knew  the  psychologic  moment 
when  she  met  it.  She  now  arose  with  con- 
gratulations and  farewells.  Mrs.  Mow- 
gelewsky  arose  also  with  Izzie  still  in  her 
arms.  She  lavished  endearments  upon 
him  and  caresses  upon  his  short  black 
nose,  and  Izzie  received  them  all  with  en- 
thusiastic gratitude. 

"And  I  think,"  said  Miss  Bailey  in 
parting,  "that  you  had  better  let  that 
dog  come  with  me.  He  seems  a  nice 
enough  little  thing,  quiet,  gentle,  and 
very  intelligent.  He  can  live  in  the  yard 
with  Rover." 

Morris  turned  his  large  eyes  from  one 
to  another  of  his  rulers,  and  Izzie,  also 
140 


FRIENDS 

good  at  psychologic  moments,  stretched 
out  a  pointed  pink  tongue  and  licked 
Mrs.  Mowgelewsky's  cheek.  "This  dog," 
said  that  lady  majestically,  "iss  mine. 
Nobody  couldn't  never  to  have  him. 
When  I  was  in  mine  trouble,  was  it  mans 
or  was  it  ladies  what  takes  und  gives  me 
mine  money  back  ?  No !  Was  it  neigh- 
bors ?  No!  Was  it  you,  Miss  Teacher, 
mine  friend?  No!  It  was  that  dog. 
Here  he  stays  mit  me.  Morris,  my 
golden  one,  you  wouldn't  to  have  no 
feelin's  'bout  mamma  havin'  dogs  ?  You 
wouldn't  to  have  mads?" 

"No,  ma'am,"  responded  her  obedient 
son;  "Missis  Bailey  she  says  it's  fer  boys 
they  should  make  all  things  what  is  lov- 
in'  mit  cats  und  dogs  und  horses." 

"Goot,"  said  his  mother;  "I  guess, 
maybe,  that  ain't  such  a  foolishness." 

It  was  not  until  nearly  bedtime  that 
Mrs.  Mowgelewsky  reverted  to  that  part 
141 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


of  Miss  Bailey's  conversation  immedi- 
ately preceding  the  discovery  of  the  loss 
of  the  purse. 

"So-o-oh,  my  golden  one,"  she  began, 
lying  back  in  her  chair  with  Izzie  on  her 
lap — "so-o-oh,  you  had  friends  by  the 
house  when  mamma  was  by  hospital." 

"On'y  one,"  Morris  answered  faintly. 

"Well,  I  ain't  scoldin',"  said  his 
mother.  "Where  iss  your  friend?  I 
likes  I  shall  look  on  him.  Ain't  he  comin' 
round  to-night?" 

"No,  ma'am,"  answTered  Morris,  set- 
tling himself  at  her  side,  and  laying  his 
head  close  to  his  .friend.  "He  couldn't 
to  go  out  by  nights  the  while  he  gets 
adopted  off  of  a  lady." 


142 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 


THE  heart  of  the  janitor  of  an  East 
Side  school  is  not  commonly  sup- 
posed to  be  a  tender  organ.  And  yet  to 
Miss  Bailey,  busy  with  roll-books  and  the 
average  attendance  of  First  Readers, 
there  entered  the  janitor  with  an  air  half 
apologetic,  half  defiant.  There  was  snow 
upon  the  janitor's  cap  and  little  icicles 
upon  his  red  mustache,  for  a  premature 
blizzard  had  closed  down  upon  New  York 
during  the  last  days  of  November. 

"Well,  Mr.  McGrath,  what  can  I  do 
for  you?"  asked  Miss  Bailey  pleasantly, 
for  McGrath  was  the  true  despot  of  the 
school,  controlling  light  and  air  and  heat 
and  cold,  and  his  good-will  was  a  thing 
worth  having. 

145 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"I  just  stepped  in,"  answered  this 
kindly  god  of  the  machine,  "to  pass  the 
remark  that  there's  one  of  your  children, 
a  girl  what  oughtn't  to  be  left  down  in  the 
yard  with  the  others,  waiting  for  the  bell 
to  ring  and  let  them  up.  She  ain't 
dressed  for  it." 

"So  few  of  them  are,"  said  Miss  Bailey 
sadly.  "I  wish  you  could  send  them  all 
straight  up  here  instead  of  lining  them  up 
in  the  cold.  Some  of  them  are  so  deter- 
mined to  be  in  time  that  they  have  to  wait 
down  there  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes." 

"I  know  they  do,"  the  janitor  acqui- 
esced. "But  I  can't  let  them  all  up. 
But  this  little  girl  I'm  telling  you  about 
— you  know  her — she  wears  a  blue  ging- 
ham dress,  and" — he  dropped  his  voice 
to  confidential  pitch — "and  mighty  little 
else  as  I  can  see." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Miss  Bailey,  "that  is 
Becky  Zabrowsky." 

146 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 

"Well,  I  could  pass  her  right  straight 
up  to  you  here  where  it's  warm.  I'm  a 
married  man  myself,  and  I've  got  kids 
of  my  own,  so  I  guess  you'll  excuse  me 
butting  in  on  this." 

"But  I  shall  be  very  grateful  to  you," 
cried  Teacher.  "It  breaks  my  heart  to 
see  her.  And  she  comes  dressed  just  as 
you  say,  whatever  the  weather  may  be." 

After  a  few  professional  questions  as  to 
heating  and  sweeping,  after  taking  the 
temperature  of  the  radiators  with  a  thermo- 
metric  hand,  and  examining  their  valves, 
the  janitor  withdrew,  and  when  Miss 
Bailey  reached  Room  18  on  the  next 
morning,  Becky  Zabrowsky,  as  blue  of 
lips  and  fingers  as  of  vesture,  was  wait- 
ing for  her.  And  indeed  her  costume 
gave  cause  for  pity,  even  as  her  smile  and 
her  bravery  gave  cause  for  tears.  Be- 
sides the  gingham  dress  referred  to  by  the 
janitor,  she  wore  a  pair  of  black  and  pink 
147 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

stockings,  of  mature  growth  and  many 
holes,  flapping  adult  shoes  with  all  the 
buttons  gone,  and  a  hair  ribbon  which 
had  begun  life  as  a  bandage.  That  was 
all.  But  she  was  clean.  And  her  self- 
respect  made  her  seven  years  as  high  a 
barrier  against  patronage  as  though  they 
had  been  seventy.  She  was  as  proudly 
and  as  sensitively  on  her  guard  as  though 
she  were  an  old  marquise  fallen  upon 
evil  days,  and  obliged  to  give  lessons  in 
French  or  die,  and  who  was  restrained 
from  the  bitter  and  pleasanter  alternative 
only  by  religion. 

Miss  Bailey  was  accustomed  to  more 
normal  children.  As  a  rule  her  little 
First  Readers  took  all  that  was  offered  to 
them,  and  a  good  deal  that  was  not. 
Their  consumption  of  Kindergarten  ma- 
terials— colored  paper,  colored  sticks, 
chalks,  pencils,  books — anything  which 
could  be  cached  upon  the  human  body — 
148 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 

was  colossal,  and  only  an  eagle  eye  and  a 
large  corps  of  subsidized  monitors  kept 
the  balance  true  between  the  number  of 
" young  learners"  and  the  number  of 
readers.  But  this  particular  little  Becky 
had  none  of  these  taking  wTays.  Had  she 
been  like  other  Beckies  and  Rachels,  Miss 
Bailey  would  have  bought  her  a  little 
shawl  and  a  few  suits  of  underwear. 
With  this  particular  Becky  such  a  liberty 
was  out  of  the  question.  Teacher  had 
encountered  the  Zabrowsky  spirit  once, 
and  had  been  defeated  by  it. 

That  had  been  upon  the  question  of 
lunch.  Teacher  had  noticed  that  Becky 
frequently  remained  at  school  during  the 
luncheon  hour,  but  that  she  never  ate 
anything.  Other  little  girls  sometimes 
urged  refreshment  upon  her  in  vain. 
Miss  Bailey,  wise  by  this  time  in  the  laws 
of  kosher  and  of  traff,  the  clean  and 
the  unclean,  according  to  Mosaic  dietary 
149 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

laws,  suggested  a  glass  of  milk  at  a  neigh- 
boring dairy,  or  a  roll  from  the  delica- 
tessen shop  across  the  street.  Any  one 
of  her  charges  would  starve  cheerfully 
to  death  or  the  hospital  ward  before  they 
would  touch  any  of  her  food.  She  was 
a  Christian,  and  though  they  loved  her, 
learned  from  her,  and  honored  her,  they, 
like  Shylock  of  old,  would  not  eat  with 
her.  And  Becky  Zabrowsky,  adding  pride 
unto  faith,  and  manners  unto  both,  would 
smile  her  heart-breaking  smile,  shake  her 
bandage-bowed  head,  and  go  on  starving. 

"  Teacher,  I  tells  you  s'cuse,  I  don't 
needs  I  shall  eat,"  was  her  always  cour- 
teous answer.  And  not  all  Miss  Bailey's 
tact  or  wiles  could  prevail  against  it. 

It  was  at  about  this  time  that  Miss 
Bailey  in  her  unofficial  capacity  accepted 
an  invitation  to  a  costume  dance.  Look- 
ing through  old  trunks  and  long-neglected 
shelves,  she  came  upon  a  little  tight-fitting 
150 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 

shoulder  cape  of  prehistoric  date  and 
fashion.  It  was  such  a  cape  as  you  can 
find  in  some  of  Du  Maurier's  drawings. 
It  pinned  the  wearer's  arms  to  her  side, 
it  gagged  her  tightly  around  the  throat,  it 
was  of  velvet,  and  its  color  was  royal  blue. 

Constance  Bailey,  peering  back  into  the 
dim  vista  of  the  years,  could  remember 
the  pride  and  happiness  which  she  had 
felt  when  her  over-indulgent  grandmother 
had  given  her,  then  a  child  of  about 
twelve,  this  gorgeous  garment.  She  could 
remember  how  it  had  dwarfed  and  faded 
the  rest  of  her  wardrobe,  how  she  had 
wept  to  wear  it  upon  all  possible  and  im- 
possible occasions,  and  how  tragic  had 
been  the  moment  when  it  refused  to  meet 
across  her  loving  breast. 

Here,  she  thought  triumphantly,  was 
something  before  which  the  Zabrowsky 
spirit  would  break  down.  It  did  not  in 
any  way  suggest  the  useful,  serviceable, 
151 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

humiliating,  charitable  devotion.  It  was 
gay  and  festive,  palpably  a  gift,  and 
Teacher,  with  many  misgivings  but  some 
hope,  submitted  it  to  Becky's  consid- 
eration. She  represented  that  she  had 
herself  outgrown  it,  that  she  had  no  cos- 
tume with  which  it  could  appropriately  be 
worn,  that  it  was  menaced  by  moths,  a 
prey  to  creases,  and  a  responsibility  under 
which  she  could  no  longer  find  peace  or 
security.  Under  the  circumstances,  she 
pleaded,  would  Becky  relieve  her  of  it? 
And  Becky  was  delighted,  translated, 
enchanted.  She  would  never  allow  that 
cape  to  hang  with  the  ordinary  outdoor 
apparel  of  the  other  members  of  the  class. 
It  rested  in  her  desk  when  she  was  busy, 
and  she  lulled  it  in  her  arms  when  she 
was  not.  Before  coming  into  this  shin- 
ing fortune  she  had  been  rather  looked 
down  upon  by  other  members  of  the 
class,  and  had  avoided  publicity  in  every 
152 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 

possible  way.  She  had  with  chattering 
teeth  and  livid  lips  assured  her  more 
warmly  clad  classmates  that  she  was  "all 
times  too  hot  on  the  skin,"  and  that  her 
mamma  considered  her  Sunday  coat  too 
stylish  to  wear  at  school.  But,  girded  in 
blue  velvet,  she  was  another  child.  Once 
the  most  retiring  of  the  class,  she  now  be- 
came the  least  so.  Once  the  most  studi- 
ous, she  now  yearned  to  be  sent  on  out- 
post duty,  on  small  shopping  expeditions 
for  her  teacher,  to  the  Principal's  office, 
or  to  other  class  rooms  with  notes  or  with 
new  students.  And  upon  all  these  ex- 
peditions she  wore  an  air  of  conscious 
correctness  and  the  royal-blue  velvet  cape. 
She  had  once  been  the  most  truthful  of 
small  persons,  but  the  glory  of  the  cape 
tinged  everything,  and  she  allowed  the 
other  children  to  infer — nay,  she  even 
definitely  stated — that  this  was  the  Sun- 
day coat  earlier  referred  to,  and  that  she 
153 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


was  wearing  it  to  school  because  it  had 
been  superseded  by  another  even  more 
wonderful.  Her  auditors  were  too  im- 
pressed to  be  unconvinced,  and,  to  cover 
her  very  literal  nakedness  in  every  other 
respect,  she  invented  for  herself  an  en- 
tirely new  disease. 

"Say,  Becky,"  one  of  the  little  girls  in 
her  class  asked  her,  "don't  you  never 
put  yourself  on  mit  underwear  nor  under- 
clothes ?  Ain't  you  scared  you  should  to 
get  cold  in  your  bones?  My  mamma, 
she  puts  me  on  mit  all  from  wool  under- 
wear— costs  twenty-seven  cents  a  suit  by 
Grand  Street — and  I  puts  them  on  when 
the  school  opens,  and  I  don't  takes  them 
off  to  the  fourth  of  July." 

"Oh,"  retorted  Becky,  with  more  truth 
than  she  knew,  "it  ain't  so  awful  healthy 
you  should  make  like  that.  My  mamma 
says  it  is  healthy  for  me  the  wind  shall 
come  on  my  skin.  She  says  sooner  no 
154 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 

wind  comes  outside  of  your  skin,  no  blood 
could  go  inside  of  your  skin.  And  don't 
you  know  how  teacher  says  what  some- 
body what  ain't  got  blood  going  in  them 
is  dead  ones?" 

"Und  you  likes"  marvelled  her  friend, 
6 'you  likes  the  wind  shall  blow  on  you  ?" 

"Sure,"  lied  Becky,  with  a  shiver,  and 
she  certainly  had  her  wish. 

But  these  appearances  were  only  kept 
up  for  the  eyes  of  the  common  herd.  In 
the  sanctuary  of  Teacher's  confidence 
she  was  more  unreserved,  and  whenever 
she  could  secure  that  young  lady's  kind 
ear,  she  bombarded  it  with  gratitude  and 
with  reports  of  the  impression  made  in 
the  neighborhood  of  her  one-roomed 
home  by  the  shining  splendor  of  that 
precious  gift. 

"Sooner  I  comes  on  mine  house,"  she 
reported,  "sooner  all  the  ladies  opens  the 
doors  and  rubbers  on  mine  cape.  Sooner 
155 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


I  walks  by  my  block  all  the  children 
wants  I  shall  let  them  wear  it.  Only  I 
won't  let  nobody  wear  it  the  while  it  is  a 
present  off  of  you." 

"That's  very  nice  of  you,"  smiled  Miss 
Bailey,  not  surprised  at  this  new  delicacy 
of  feeling  in  so  small  and  unfortunate 
and  sorely  tried  a  heart.  "Very  nice  of 
you  indeed." 

"Sure  I  won't  let  anybody  wear  it," 
reiterated  Becky,  "not  'out  they  pays  me 
a  penny  for  walkin'  up  and  down  the 
block,  and  two  cents  for  walkin'  all 
round  the  block  mit  mine  stylish  from- 
plush  cape." 

"Of  course  not,"  Teacher  agreed, 
hastily  adjusting  herself  to  this  standard 
of  right  dealing. 

"No,  ma'am,"  said  Becky.  "I  should 
never  leave  nobody  have  nothings  what 
you  gives  me  'out  they  pays  me  good. 
The  lady  of  our  floor,  she  goes  on  a 
156 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 

dancing-ball  over  yesterday,  and  she 
wants  I  shall  leave  her  put  her  on  mit 
mine  cape — she's  a  awful  little  lady — 
only  she  don't  wants  she  shall  pay  me. 
Und  so  I  ain't  let  her  take  it,  the  while 
you  gives  it  to  me,  and  I  am  loving  much 
mit  you." 

A  teacher  who  gains  the  confidence  of 
her  small  charges,  even  to  a  slight  degree, 
is  sure  to  be  made  familiar  with  their 
family  history  unto  the  third  or  fourth 
generation.  And  so  Teacher  knew  that 
the  poverty  of  Becky's  home  life  was  em- 
bittered and  made  even  harder  to  bear 
by  the  contrasting  elegance  of  an  aunt, 
who  lived,  amid  rank  and  fashion,  in  the 
* 4 tony"  purlieus  of  Cherry  Street.  Her 
abode  consisted,  according  to  her  smart- 
ing small  relative,  of  "a  room  and  a 
closet,"  a  lavish  and  extravagant  area 
for  a  household  as  small  as  hers. 

"Why,"  Becky  informed  Miss  Bailey, 
157 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

with  upturned  palms,  upscrewed  shoul- 
ders, and  upturned  eyes,  "my  aunt,  she 
ain't  got  only  five  children  and  three 
boarders!" 

It  had  been  the  habit  of  this  rich  and 
fashionable  dame  to  pay  visits  of  state 
and  ceremony  to  her  less  fortunate  sister- 
in-law,  whose  abode  differed  from  hers 
only  by  the  subtraction  of  the  room. 
There,  in  the  chaste  consciousness  of  an 
incredible  wig  and  an  impenetrable  shawl, 
she  would  monopolize  many  hundreds  of 
cubic  feet  of  space  and  air;  indulge  in 
conversations  of  the  elegant  and  fashion- 
able kind,  which,  so  Becky  reported  to 
her  teacher,  "makes  the  tears  in  my 
mamma's  eyes,  and  gives  my  papa  shamed 
feelings,"  and  caused  an  epidemic  of  ill- 
temper,  with  resulting  slaps  and  kicks 
and  yelling  among  her  nephews  and 
nieces. 

"And  what  you  think?"  Becky  had 
158 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 

sadly  added;  "she  says  like  that  all  times 
on  my  mamma,  out  of  Jewish,  she  says: 
'Why  don't  you  never  come  over  for  see 
me?'  Und  my  mamma,  she  says  all 
times,  mit  more  tears  in  the  eyes — bend 
down  your  head,  Teacher.  I  likes  I 
shall  whisper  mit  you  in  your  ear — she 
couldn't  come  the  whiles  she  ain't  got 
nothing  she  could  wear  on  the  block. 
My  papa  has  fierce  feelings  over  it.  He 
says  like  that,  his  sister — that's  my  aunt 
— is  awful  nosy." 

Teacher  often  pondered  as  to  whether 
it  were  possible,  or  even  desirable,  to  pro- 
vide the  means  to  more  frequent  inter- 
course between  the  two"  families.  She 
knew  that  this  would  mean  shopping; 
that  any  article  of  her  own  apparel,  or 
that  of  any  of  her  friends,  would  be  in- 
adequate to  enshroud  the  matronly  form 
of  Becky's  mother,  for  years  of  confine- 
ment to  the  house,  years  of  sedentary  oc- 
159 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


cupation,  and  years  of  ill-considered  and 
ill-adapted  diet  had  co-operated  to  pro- 
duce almost  geographical  outlines  in  Mrs. 
Zabrowsky.  Mountains,  valleys,  promon- 
tories, and  plains  seemed  the  terms  most 
suitable  to  describe  her,  and  she  looked 
about  as  movable  as  these  natural  forma- 
tions. Teacher  thought  of  waiting  until 
Christmas  time,  and  of  then  doing  some- 
thing anonymously.  Meanwhile  the  epi- 
sode of  the  cape  occurred,  and  some  weeks 
later  Becky  reported  with  triumph: 

"Teacher,  what  you  think?"  this  was 
always  her  opening  phrase;  4 4 my  stylish 
aunt  by  Cherry  Street,  she  goes  and  has 
a  party,  und  my  papa  he  goes  on  the 
party,  und  my  mamma,  she  goes  by  my 
papa's  side." 

"Then  she  bought  a  shawl,"  cried 
Teacher.   "I  am  ever  and  ever  so  glad." 

Becky  shook  her  head. 

"No,  ma'am,  she  don't  needs  she  shall 
160 


THE  MAGIC  CAPE 


buy  no  shawl.  She  puts  her  on  mit  mine 
blue  from-plush  cape." 

A  vision  of  Becky's  mother  rose  before 
Teacher's  eyes,  flanked  by  another  of  the 
tiny  cape,  and  she  laughed. 

"But  that  is  impossible,  my  dear.  She 
couldn't." 

"Teacher,  she  does." 

"But,  Becky,"  cried  Teacher,  "how 
could  she?  You  know  that  the  cape  is 
too  small  for  me,  and  it  is  only  the  right 
size  for  you,  and  you  know  your  mamma 
is  twice  as  big  as  both  of  us.  So  how 
could  she  wear  it,  dear  ?  It  never  could 
have  hooked  up  the  front." 

"No,  ma'am,  it  didn't  hook,"  Becky 
admitted.  "My  mamma's  back  needs 
the  most  of  it,  und  in  front  it  don't  fits 
very  good,  only  that  makes  mit  my 
mamma  nothings.  She  goes  on  my  nosy 
auntie's  party  mit  proud  feelings,  the 
while  she  knows  how  her  back  is  stylish. 
161 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


Und  in  the  front  where  the  cape  don't 
goes,  my  mamma,  she  wears  my  little 
sister." 

"What!"  gasped  my  friend.  "What 
did  you  say  she  wore  in  the  front  ?" 

"She  wears  the  baby,"  Becky  repeated. 
"Und  my  nosy  auntie's  awful  fresh.  She 
says  like  that  on  my  mamma:  'Don't  you 
likes  you  shall  lay  the  baby  down  by  the 
bed  ? '  She  says  like  that,  the  while  she 
knows  my  mamma  ain't  got  capes  only  in 
back,  und  she  wants  my  mamma  shall 
have  shamed  feelings  before  all  the 
peoples  what  is  on  the  party.  Und  my 
mamma,  she  says  like  that,  just  as  smart, 
she  says:  'No,  I  guess  I  don't  likes  I 
shall  lay  my  baby  on  no  strange  beds.  It 
ain't  healthy,  maybe.'  And  she  holds  the 
baby,  and  nobody  knows  how  the  front 
from  that  cape  is,  und  my  mamma  en- 
joyed a  pleasant  time,  and  my  papa  had 
a  proud." 

162 


BAILEY'S  BABIES" 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 


MISS  BAILEY,"  said  Miss  Blake, 
entering  Room  18  during  the 
lunch  hour  of  a  day  in  January,  shortly 
after  school  had  recovered  from  the  Christ- 
mas holidays,  "might  I  come  in  for  a  few 
moments  this  afternoon  to  observe  your 
children?  I  suppose  I  shall  be  having 
them  next  term.  Too  bad  you  first-grade 
teachers  never  know  what  you  are  going 
to  get  down  here!  It's  different  up  town, 
where  the  kids  nearly  all  go  to  kinder- 
garten. Down  here  they  sweep  them 
right  in  off  the  street." 

Miss  Bailey  extended  a  cordial  invita- 
tion to  her  colleague  and  neighbor  to  visit 
Room  18  at  any  convenient  hour.  And 
as  she  proceeded  with  her  solitary  lunch- 
eon, she  was  conscious  of  a  heaviness  in 
165 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

the  region  of  her  heart  not  due  to  indiges- 
tion. She  had  committed  the  folly  of 
growing  fond  of  that  term's  crop  of  little 
First  Readers.  Room  18  without  Patrick 
Brennan,  Morris  Mowgelewsky,Eva  Gon- 
orowsky,  and  all  her  other  aide-de-camps 
and  monitors  would  be  a  desolate  place. 
And  Miss  Bailey,  as  she  munched  a 
chicken  sandwich,  objected  strongly  to 
Miss  Blake's  expressive  phrase,  "sweep 
them  right  in  off  the  street."  Yet  it  was 
quite  true.  The  children  of  whom  she 
was  now  so  fond  had  been  swept  in  to 
her  in  September,  and  she  remembered 
that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  street 
would  seem  to  have  been  swept  in  with 
them.  They  had  since  learned  the  art 
of  scraping  their  small  shoes  on  interven- 
ing stairs  and  through  intervening  halls, 
but  as  recruits  they  had  been  all  that  she 
dreaded  in  their  successors.  Miss  Blake 
would  now  reap  the  benefit  of  this  and 
166 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

other  improvements,  while  Miss  Bailey 
devoted  her  energies  to  a  new  invoice  of 
seedlings. 

Such,  of  course,  was  life.  Especially 
a  teacher's  life.  But  Miss  Bailey  was 
new  to  her  trade  and  had  not  yet  learned 
the  philosophic,  impersonal  view-point  of 
the  gardener.  She  loved  her  little  plants 
individually,  and  she  shrank  from  the 
idea  of  pulling  them  out  of  their  places 
under  the  protecting  glass  of  her  care, 
and  handing  them  over  to  the  ministra- 
tions of  another. 

The  promise  of  new  seedlings  did  not 
comfort  her.  She  felt  outraged  by  it,  as 
a  man  bereaved  of  a  fox  terrier  may  feel 
toward  the  friend  to  whom  a  dog  is  a  dog, 
and  who  boasts  that  he  knows  where  he 
can  get  another  worth  two  of  the  dear 
departed. 

In  the  afternoon  Miss  Blake  appeared, 
and  the  unsuspecting  First  Readers  were 
167 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


put  through  their  paces.  They  sang, 
they  marched,  they  read,  and  they  wrote. 
They  would  have  gone  gallantly  on 
through  all  the  other  subjects  in  their 
curriculum  if  she  had  found  time  to  stay, 
but  she  had  left  Room  19  in  charge  of  a 
monitor,  and  that  monitor's  inability  to 
preserve  order  made  itself  heard  through 
door  and  wall,  so  that  presently  she  de- 
clared herself  quite  satisfied,  and  retired 
to  her  own  kingdom.  A  deadly  silence 
followed  upon  her  arrival  there. 

"They  has  awful  'f  raids  over  her," 
Sarah  Schodsky  remarked.  "A  girl  by 
her  class  tells  me  how  she  throws  rulers 
once  on  a  boy." 

"I'd  have  a  'fraid  over  her  too,"  cried 
Yetta  Aaronsohn.  "I  don't  like  I  shall 
have  no  teachers  what  is  big  like  that.  I 
have  all  times  'f raids  over  big  teachers." 

"You've  never  had  one,"  laughed  Miss 
Bailey,  "so  don't  talk  nonsense.  Big 
168 


BAILEY'S  BABIES" 


teachers  are  much  nicer  than  little 
ones." 

"They  ain't  fer  me,"  Yetta  maintained. 
"I  ain't  never  had  no  teacher  on'y  you, 
and  I  don't  needs  I  shall  never  have  no 
teacher  on'y  you." 

From  these  conversational  straws  Miss 
Bailey  gathered  that  it  would  be  unwise 
to  insist  too  strongly  upon  the  personal 
element  in  "developing  the  promotion 
thought."  Promotion  had  formed  no 
part  in  the  experience  or  the  vocabulary 
of  the  First  Readers  Class  before  Miss 
Bailey  somewhat  guilefully  introduced  it. 

The  children  were  delighted.  They 
always  loved  things  vague  and  looming, 
and  Miss  Bailey — animated  by  duty — 
spoke  so  enthusiastically  of  promotion 
that  they  all  thrilled  to  experience  it. 
The  phrase,  "when  I'm  'moted,"  grew 
very  fashionable.  No  one  knew  exactly 
what  it  meant,  but  it  was  something  more 
169 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

imminent  than  the  "when  I'm  big"  of 
the  boys,  and  the  "when  I  git  married" 
of  the  girls.  It  was  something,  too,  in 
which  one's  prowess  as  a  reader  and 
writer  was  to  count  for  righteousness; 
"For  of  course,"  Miss  Bailey  explained, 
"we  can't  expect  to  be  promoted  if  we 
don't  know  how  to  read:  'see  the  leaves 
fall  from  the  tree.'"  (It  was  easier  to 
read  than  to  do  in  January  on  the  lower 
East  Side.) 

The  First  Readers  were  hardly  daunted 
when  they  learned  that  a  barrier,  known 
as  "zamnation,"  was  to  be  stretched  be- 
tween them  and  the  "'moted"  state. 
"Zamnation,"  when  first  Miss  Bailey  pro- 
nounced it,  caused  something  akin  to 
panic  in  Room  18.  It  differed  in  no  per- 
ceptible degree  from  a  word  which  they 
all  understood  to  be  taboo  ever  since  Ikey 
Borrachsohn  had  addressed  it,  in  the 
heat  of  argument,  to  a  classmate.  In  the 
170 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

lower  grades  an  examination  does  not 
greatly  differ  from  an  ordinary  recitation, 
and  so  the  First  Readers,  protected  from 
stage  fright  by  complete  ignorance  of 
what  they  were  undergoing,  passed  the 
ordeal  in  triumph,  and  fell  out  at  the 
other  side  victorious  almost  to  a  man, 
and  First  Readers  never  more. 

There  came  an  afternoon  when  Miss 
Bailey,  somewhat  huskily,  explained  this 
to  them.  "Zamnation"  was  over.  The 
fair  pages  of  the  Second  Readers  lay  be- 
fore them.  In  the  morning  they  would  be 
promoted.  She  was  very  proud  of  them. 
One  or  two  children  had  not  worked 
quite  hard  enough.  They  would  have  to 
try  again,  but  the  rank  and  file  had 
achieved  promotion,  and  she  hoped  they 
would  be  very  happy,  and  they  were  to 
remember  that  she  would  always  and 
ever  be  glad  to  see  them,  and  glad  to  hear 
that  they  were  good. 

171 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

The  children  who  had  taken  their  ex- 
aminations so  blandly,  took  their  pro- 
motion in  quite  a  different  spirit.  Miss 
Bailey,  laboring  as  best  she  could  with 
fifty  little  new-comers,  could  not  be  un- 
aware of  the  disturbance — almost  the 
tumult — on  the  other  side  of  the  wall. 
When  ten-thirty  brought  the  recess  hour 
and  she  went  down  to  the  yard  with  her 
new  responsibilities,  the  tumult  met  her 
there. 

"I  don't  likes  it,  und  I  don't  needs  that 
'motion,"  cried  Sarah  Schodsky;  " 1  likes 
I  shall  be  by  your  room." 

" But  you  can't,  honey.  You're  too 
big,"  said  Miss  Bailey.  "You  just  stop 
crying  for  your  lost  youth  and  try  to  make 
the  best  of  Room  19." 

"But  we  don't  likes  that  room,"  cried 
Morris  Mowgelewsky,  ex-monitor  of  Miss 
Bailey's  Gold  Fish  Bowl.  "It  don't 
stands  no  fish  theaytre  in  it  nor  no  flow- 
172 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 


ers.  Nathan  Spiderwitz,  he  has  awful 
mads  over  it"  (Nathan  Spiderwitz  had 
been  Monitor  of  Miss  Bailey's  window- 
boxes),  "und  Patrick  Brennan  says  maybe 
his  papa  could  to  arrest  Missis  Blake. 
She  says  cheek  on  him.  She  calls  him 
Irisher." 

"Oh,  no!"  remonstrated  Miss  Bailey. 

"Teacher,  yiss  ma'am,  she  says  cheek," 
Morris  maintained.  "She  says  cheek  on 
all  of  us;  she  says  we  is  Bailey's  Babies. 
She  says  it  on  Miss  Rosen.  Me  und 
Nathan,  we  hears  how  she  says  on  her. 
'What  you  think  I  got?'  she  says  on 
Miss  Rosen,  und  Miss  Rosen,  she  says, 
'she  don't  knows,'  und  Missis  Blake,  she 
says,  'I  got  a  bunch  of  Bailey's  Babies.'" 

"Then  you  must  have  been  bad,  Mor- 
ris," Miss  Bailey  reproved  him;  "you 
must  have  been  behaving  like  babies." 

"Teacher,  no  ma'am,"  Morris  an- 
swered. "We  don't  make  nothings  like 
173 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


that.  She  makes  Eva  Gonorowsky  und 
Yetta  Aaronsohn  shall  stand  in  corners 
the  whiles  they  cries.  She  says,  'What 
is  mit  them?'  und  they  says,  'They  likes 
they  shall  look  upon  your  face,'  und  extra 
she  stands  them  in  corners.  She  is  awful 
cross  teachers!    Und  anyway,  she's  too 

wg." 

Although  Miss  Bailey  appreciated  this 
tribute  she  could  understand  Miss  Blake's 
failure  to  do  so,  and  she  explained  to 
Morris  that,  upon  pain  of  being  instantly 
cast  out  from  her  heart  of  hearts,  he  must 
learn  to  love  Miss  Blake. 

But  Morris  had  had  a  severe  lesson  in 
the  perils  of  unrequited  affection,  and  at 
the  age  of  seven  had  formulated  the  ax- 
iom, "It's  a  foolishness  you  shall  make 
what  is  lovin'  mit  somebody  sooner  some- 
body don't  makes  what  is  lovin'  mit  you,'' 
and  Miss  Bailey  found  it  difficult  to  induce 
him  to  regard  Miss  Blake  with  affection. 
174 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

Other  members  of  the  former  cabinet 
and  staff  were  equally  refractory,  and  at 
three  o'clock  every  afternoon,  save  on 
the  regrettably  frequent  occasions  when 
Miss  Blake  was  obliged  to  require  their 
continued  presence  in  Room  19,  they 
flocked  back  to  their  old  posts  of  duty. 
They  fell  upon  the  window-boxes,  the 
aquarium,  the  pencils,  and  the  black- 
boards with  endearments  and  caresses, 
and  they  utterly  swept  away  and  annihi- 
lated the  slow-footed  new-comers  whom 
Miss  Bailey  was  trying  to  initiate  in  their 
duties.  A  clumsy  boy  named  David 
Boskowitz  had  succeeded  to  the  port- 
folio of  Gold  Fishes.  Now  a  gold  fish, 
even  of  eighteen-carat  quality,  is  not 
warranted  to  endure  the  endearments 
and  refreshments  lavished  upon  it  by 
fifty  emotional  members  of  a  race  whose 
ancestors  once  wandered  to  adoration  of 
a  Golden  Calf.  During  Morris's  tenure 
175 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

of  office  Miss  Bailey  had  frequently  been 
obliged  to  renew  his  charges.  And  some 
mysterious  tragedy  was  played  in  the  fish 
theatre  one  night  shortly  after  David 
Boskowitz  took  office.  Morris,  slipping 
into  Room  18  before  school  hours,  to  be- 
stow a  defunct  carnation  upon  Teacher, 
found  a  gold  fish  floating,  wrong  side  up, 
among  the  seaweed  in  the  shining  bowl. 

With  howls  he  pointed  it  out  to  Miss 
Bailey.  Together  they  retrieved  it. 
Then  Teacher  wrapped  it  reverently  in 
tissue  paper  and  commissioned  Morris  to 
go  forth  and  give  it  decent  burial  in  the 
nearest  ash  barrel. 

But  Morris  did  nothing  of  the  kind. 
He  carried  it  about  with  him  for  days,  and 
stirred  up  sentiments  of  wildest  revolu- 
tion in  the  hot  hearts  of  his  contempora- 
ries by  showing  them  the  limp  body  of 
their  pet,  foully  done  to  death  by  4 'them 
new  kids  what  Teacher  had." 

176 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

Miss  Blake  found  "Bailey's  Babies" 
astonishingly  unmanageable.  The  diffi- 
culty lay  in  the  different  conception  of  the 
art  of  teaching  held  by  these  two  expo- 
nents. Miss  Bailey,  as  has  been  said,  was 
of  the  garden  school.  She  regarded  the 
children  as  plants,  knowledge  as  water; 
her  part  in  the  scheme  of  things  to  under- 
study the  sunshine,  and  to  coax  the  plants 
to  absorb  the  water.  Miss  Blake  was  of 
the  carpenter  school.  She  held  that  facts 
were  hard  and  straight;  minds  not  quite 
so  hard,  and  never  straight;  her  duty  to 
saw  and  bore,  sand-paper  and  file  the 
minds  until  the  facts  could  be  smoothly 
glued  upon  them. 

"Bailey's  Babies"  felt  this  difference 
though  they  did  not  understand  it.  In 
fact  life  was  getting  generally  incompre- 
hensible. For  were  not  Hymie  Solomon, 
the  greenhorn,  who  had  not  yet  learned 
English,  Jakey  Fishandler,  who  was  so 
177 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

bad  that  no  teacher  except  Miss  Bailey 
would  have  him  in  her  class,  and  Becky 
Zalmanowsky,  who — though  the  First 
Readers  did  not  appreciate  it — was  a  per- 
fect type  of  the  criminal  idiot,  were  not 
these  allowed  to  bask  in  Miss  Bailey's 
presence,  while  self-respecting,  hard-work- 
ing First  Readers  were  thrown  into  outer 
darkness  ? 

There  was,  indeed,  weeping  and  wailing 
and  gnashing  of  teeth,  and,  contributed 
by  Patrick  Brennan,  an  uninterrupted 
flow  of  minor  disturbances  and  insubordi- 
nations, culminating  in  a  heated  interview 
between  Miss  Blake  and  the  Principal, 
in  which  the  lady  insisted  that  Patrick 
was  making  discipline  impossible,  that  his 
writing  was  a  blot  upon  civilization,  and 
that  he  should  be  returned  whence  he 
came. 

The  beginning  of  every  term  is  marked 
by  several  such  falls  from  grace  on  the 
178 


Patrick  was  making  discipline  impossible 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

part  of  erstwhile  model  pupils,  who  do 
not  easily  adjust  themselves  to  their  new 
environment.  The  Principal  was  sur- 
prised but  complacent,  and  very  formally 
on  the  next  morning  Miss  Blake  delivered 
her  ultimatum  to  that  unruly  son  of  the 
Kings  of  Ulster  and  the  policeman  on 
the  beat.  Its  immediate  cause  was  the 
unoffending  but  offensive  gold  fish.  For 
three  days  it  had  preached  its  silent  ser- 
mon of  sedition  and  puzzled  the  olfactory 
nerves  of  Miss  Blake,  who  after  ten  years 
of  East  Side  teaching  had  flattered  herself 
that  she  was  beyond  any  new  sensation 
of  that  nature.  After  a  heated  interview 
which  led  to  the  disintegration  of  the  ven- 
erable corse,  Miss  Blake  gathered  her 
black  serge  draperies  closely  about  her 
and  issued  her  command. 

"Take  your  things,"  said  she;  "I 
won't  have  you  in  this  room  another 
minute."    Patrick's  eyes  grew  large,  he 
179 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


hesitated  about  returning  to  the  paternal 
and  official  roof-tree  with  the  tidings  that 
he  had  been  expelled.  ' 6 Take  your  hat 
and  everything  you  own  and  come  with 
me." 

Patrick  gathered  together  a  miscella- 
neous collection,  consisting  of  a  wad  of 
chewing-gum,  the  soul  of  a  mouth-organ, 
a  cap,  and  one  rubber  overshoe,  and  pre- 
pared to  march  upon  East  Broadway. 

"You  are  a  disgrace  to  the  school," 
said  Miss  Blake  loftily,  "and  I  am  going 
to  take  you  to  the  only  place  you  are  fit 
for — back  to  the  First  Reader  Class. 
We'll  see  what  Miss  Bailey  will  say  to 
you,  young  man." 

Well,  Patrick  followed  her.  It  was  the 
first  command  of  hers  to  which  he  had 
given  favorable  ear.  He  even  went  with 
alacrity — and  the  novices  in  the  Second 
Reader  gazed  wildly  upon  one  another. 
They  may  not  have  been  quick  to  mem- 
180 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

orize  incomprehensible  and  unexplained 
"memory  gems,"  or  to  carry  in  their 
heads  long  strings  of  figures  unconnected 
with  anything  in  sea  or  sky.  But  Miss 
Bailey's  training  had  made  them  experts 
in  recognizing  cause  and  effect,  and  such 
an  epidemic  of  lawlessness  and  mischief 
swept  over  Room  19  as  even  Miss 
Blake's  ten  years'  experience  had  never 
paralleled.  "Bailey's  Babies"  went  sud- 
denly and  unanimously  to  the  dogs.  The 
energy  which  they  had  expended  in  being 
'"moted"  was  as  nothing  to  the  delirious 
determination  with  which  they  fought  for 
retrogradation.  They  dutifully  called  to 
mind  all  Miss  Bailey's  precepts,  and  then 
crashed  through  them,  one  by  one.  They 
fell  from  grace,  from  truth,  from  cleanli- 
ness, from  all  the  moral  heights  upon 
which  Teacher  had  perched  them,  and, 
as  they  fell,  they  set  in  motion  the  ma- 
chinery provided  by  the  Board  of  Educa- 
181 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

tion .  Mesdames  Gonoro wsky ,  Mo wgele w- 
sky  and  Borrachsohn,  and  other  matrons 
began  to  find  the  tenor  of  their  days  in- 
terrupted by  incomprehensible  post-cards, 
and  a  regrettably  comprehensible  Truant 
Officer.  ' ' Bailey's  Babies  "  were  running 
amuck,  and  their  cries  as  they  commit- 
ted moral  hara-kiri  echoed  as  far  as  the 
marble  halls  of  the  Board  of  Education 
on  remote  Park  Avenue. 

Mrs.  Gonorowsky  paid  the  exorbitant 
price  of  a  cent  to  have  her  official  post- 
card read  by  an  interpreter.  Neighbors 
volunteered  for  this  service,  but  she  would 
have  none  of  them.  She  wanted  an 
authoritative  reading,  and  having  got  it, 
she  sat  down  to  await  the  return  of  Eva. 

"So-o-oh,"  ran  the  maternal  greeting, 
"you  comes  three  times  late  on  the  school 
mit  dirty  faces."  Eva  hung  her  guilty 
head.  "And  I  wash  you  every  day  the 
face,  und  send  you  on  the  block  plenty 
182 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

time?  Hein?"  Eva  nodded  the  guilty 
head.  "Und  now  comes  such  a  card 
from  off  the  school  savin'  how  you  comes 
late  und  dirty,  und  the  Principal,  he 
wants  he  shall  see  me  to-morrow,  quarter 
after  three."  A  silence  followed  these 
thunderous  words.  Eva's  guilt  engulfed 
her,  although  hers  was  the  clearest  con- 
science among  all  the  candidates  for  re- 
turn tickets.  Her  gentle  spirit  had  been 
unequal  to  the  orgy  in  which  braver  souls 
were  wallowing. 

"I  wants,"  she  whispered  now,  "I 
wants  I  shall  be  put  back.  I  don't  likes 
it  by  Miss  Blakeses  room.  I  ain't  mon- 
itors off  of  nothings,  und  Miss  Blake  she 
hollers  on  me,  und  Patrick  he  is  put  back. 
I  likes  I  shall  be  put  back  too." 

"Sooner  you  feels  like  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Gonorowsky  with  sound  logic,  "why 
aind  you  stayed  back  by  Miss  Bailey's 
room  ?  Aind  you  told  me  how  you  wants 
183 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


you  shall  be  'moted,  and  learn  off  a  new 
book?" 

"Not  'out  Miss  Bailey,"  Eva  protested. 
"I  couldn't  to  learn  'out  Miss  Bailey.  I 
want  Miss  Bailey  shall  be  'moted  too." 

"Und  why  ain't  she  'moted  ?"  demand- 
ed the  voice  of  reason. 

At  this  question — its  answer  had  long 
been  torture  to  her  loyal  little  heart — Eva 
broke  into  wild  tears.  Changing  over 
to  the  voice  of  love,  Mrs.  Gonorowsky 
soothed  and  cuddled  and  petted  her  until 
Eva  found  speech  again. 

"It's  somethin'  fierce,"  she  whispered. 
"In  all  my  world  I  ain't  never  seen  how  it 
is  fierce.  I  shall  better,  maybe,  whisper 
mit  you  in  the  ear.  It's  like  this:  She 
ain't  smart  enough.  Becky  Zalmanow- 
sky,  she  ain't  smart  enough,  und  Hymie 
Solomon,  he  ain't  smart  enough,  und 
Jakey  Fishandler,  he  is  a  greeney,  und 
Teacher,  she  gets  left  back  mit  them." 
184 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

"Gott!"  cried  Mrs.  Gonorowsky, 
"who  says  she  ain't  smart  enough?" 

"The  Principal,  maybe,"  wailed  Eva. 

"All  right,"  said  her  mother,  whose  ad- 
miration for  Miss  Bailey  was  great  and 
of  long  standing.  "I  goes  on  the  school 
to-morrow  for  see  him  at  quarter  after 
three." 

When  Mrs.  Gonorowsky  reached  the 
big  school-house,  she  found  that  her 
audience  with  the  Principal  was  not  to 
be  a  private  one,  for  a  dozen  or  more 
mothers  were  gathered  in  the  yard.  A 
regular  investigation  was  on  foot.  Every 
one  concerned  had  recognized  that  there 
was  some  organization  about  Room  19's 
sedition,  and  Miss  Blake  had  first  repu- 
diated the  acquaintance  and  friendship 
of  Miss  Bailey,  and  had  then  gone  on  to 
repudiate  all  responsibility  for  what  she 
now  termed  "Bailey's  Brats." 

"I  refuse — I  must  refuse — to  teach  that 
185 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


class,"  said  she  to  the  harassed  Principal. 
"If  you  can't  arrange  to  exchange  me 
with  some  other  teacher,  I  shall  apply  for 
a  transfer  to  an  up-town  school.  If  that 
Miss  Bailey  is  so  crazy  about  these  chil- 
dren, why  don't  you  let  her  keep  them  for 
another  term  ?  Every  one  seems  to  think 
she's  a  crackerjack  teacher,  so  I  guess 
she  can  get  along  in  second  term  work, 
and  I  can  take  that  new  class  of 
hers." 

"I'll  think  of  it,"  said  the  Principal,  as 
the  janitor  came  to  tell  him  that  the 
mothers  were  overflowing  his  office. 

Before  his  interview  with  them,  he 
turned  into  Room  18,  and  there  he  found 
the  ringleaders  of  Room  19's  rebellion. 
Though  beatified  they  wore  a  chastened, 
propitiatory  air,  for  Miss  Bailey  had  just 
been  lecturing  them.  She  looked  as  dis- 
tressed as  she  was  by  the  whole  situa- 
tion. 

186 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

"I  just  stepped  in,"  the  Principal  ex- 
plained, "to  see  how  many  of  them  were 
still  chained  to  their  oars.  Rather  a 
luxurious  galley  this,  don't  you  think?" 

"I  can't  think  at  all,"  answered  Con- 
stance Bailey.  "They  were  a  fine  class, 
and  Miss  Blake  is  a  fine  teacher." 

"These  misunderstandings  happen," 
said  the  Principal,  "in  schools  just  as 
they  do  in  marriages.  I'm  going  down 
now  to  interview  the  mothers  of  most  of 
these  young  people  here.  Do  you  mind 
staying  and  keeping  the  children  for  a 
few  moments?  I  must  get  this  thing- 
straightened  out." 

"We  shall  all  be  here  when  you  come 
back,"  Miss  Bailey  promised. 

Eva  Gonorowsky  had  but  reflected  the 
general  opinion  when  she  told  her  mother 
that  Miss  Bailey  had  been  left  back  "be- 
cause she  wasn't  smart  enough,"  and  the 
Principal  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  an 
187 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


indignation  meeting.  In  Yiddish,  in  Eng- 
lish, in  all  grades  and  dialects  between  the 
two,  the  mothers  protested  against  this 
ruling. 

There  was  hardly  one  of  them  who  did 
not  owe  Miss  Bailey  some  meed  of  grati- 
tude— and  they  were  of  a  race  which  still 
practises  that  virtue. 

So  they  made  ovation,  fervid,  gesticula- 
tory,  and  obscure.  But  through  much 
harping  on  one  theme  they  made  their 
meaning  clear. 

"So  you  think,"  said  the  Principal, 
"that  Miss  Bailey  is  still  teaching  the 
smallest  children  because  she  is  not  as 
clever  as  the  other  teachers.  You  never 
were  more  mistaken  in  your  lives.  The 
hardest  child  to  teach  and  manage,  as 
all  of  you  very  well  know,  is  the  smallest 
child.  The  very  best  teaching  should 
come  at  the  very  beginning." 

This  statement,  when  it  was  translated 
188 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 


by  those  who  understood  it  to  those  who 
did  not,  met  with  a  cordial  rumble  of 
approval. 

"Your  children,"  he  went  on,  "are  old 
enough  now  to  be  taught  by  an  ordinary 
teacher.  Miss  Blake  is  much  more  than 
that." 

This  translated  was  not  very  well  re- 
ceived. Stout  inarticulate  mothers  drew 
their  shawls  more  closely  about  them  and 
grunted  dissent. 

"But  although  they  are  old  enough 
they  haven't  been  proving  themselves 
good  enough,  and  so  I  have  decided— as 
you  express  it — to  promote  Miss  Bailey 
too,  and  to  let  her  have  charge  of  them 
until  the  end  of  the  year.  I  shall  notify 
Miss  Blake  to-morrow.  Meanwhile,  if 
you  ladies  will  go  up  to  Room  18  I  think 
you  will  find  your  children  there,  and  I 
know  you  will  find  Miss  Bailey.  Per- 
haps," he  added  with  a  smile,  "she  would 
189 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

be  glad  to  receive  your  congratulations 
upon  her  promotion." 

The  mothers  steamed  and  streamed 
away,  led  by  Mrs.  Mowgelewsky  whose 
wig  was  very  much  awry,  and  by  Mrs. 
Gonorowsky,  whose  mind  was  in  a  tri- 
umphant flame,  while  far  in  the  rear 
there  pattered  the  grandmother  of  Isidore 
Applebaum,  whose  mind  was  quite  un- 
changed by  the  events  of  the  afternoon. 

Isidore  had  managed  to  explain  Miss 
Bailey's  disabilities  to  her,  but  her  almost 
complete  deafness  left  her  quite  unmoved 
by  the  Principal's  eloquence  in  either 
original  or  translated  form.  She  only 
knew  that  Miss  Bailey  had  been  at  last 
allowed  to  retain  the  guardianship  of 
Isidore. 

Fifteen  unintelligible  congratulations 
are  rather  overwhelming,  and  Miss  Bai- 
ley was  accordingly  overwhelmed  by  the 
inrush. 

190 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

The  mothers  fell  upon  her  bodily  and 
pinned  her  to  her  chair.  They  kissed  her 
hands.  They  kissed  her  gown.  They 
patted  her  back.  They  embraced  or 
chastised  their  offspring  with  equal  vio- 
lence. They  admired  the  pictures,  stood 
enraptured  before  the  aquarium,  touched 
the  flowers  with  hungry  appreciation,  and 
enjoyed  themselves  immensely. 

Mrs.  Gonorowsky  was  a  very  champion 
among  the  hosts.  She  put  Eva's  miscon- 
duct upon  the  basis  of  etiquette.  Surely 
it  was  not  polite,  she  pointed  out,  that  Eva 
should  allow  herself  to  be  exalted  over 
her  teacher.  As  Mrs.  Gonorowsky  lucidly 
phrased  it: 

"Eva,  she  gets  put  back  the  whiles  she 
don't  wants  you  shall  think  she  shows  off 
that  she  iss  smarter  als  Teacher — some- 
thing like  that  aind  polite.  Und  any- 
way now  the  Pincipal  says  Eva  aind 
smarter." 

191 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"That's  very  kind  of  him,"  remarked 
Miss  Bailey,  trying  to  understand  for  the 
third  time  a  whispered  communication 
from  Isidore  Applebaum's  grandmother. 
The  speech,  whatever  it  meant,  was 
clearly  of  a  cheerful  and  encouraging 
nature,  and  at  the  close  of  each  repetition 
the  old  lady  patted  Teacher  encourag- 
ingly upon  the  shoulder,  and  winked  and 
nodded  to  an  amazing  extent. 

Isidore  was  dragged  from  his  lair  and 
pressed  into  service  as  interpreter. 

"She  says  like  this  out  of  Jewish,"  he 
began,  "she  says  you  don't  have  to  care 
what  nobody  says  over  how  you  is  smart 
or  how  you  ain't  smart.  She  says  that 
don't  makes  nothings  mit  her  the  whiles 
you  is  lovin'  mit  childrens." 

Again  the  old  lady  patted  Teacher's 
shoulder,  nodding  and  smiling  the  while 
with  a  knowing  and  encouraging  air. 

"Und  she  says,"  Isidore  went  on  trans- 
it 


"BAILEY'S  BABIES" 

lating  the  hint  with  some  delicacy,  "she 
says  we  got  a  boarder  by  our  house  what 
ain't  so  awful  smart,  und" — here  Isidore 
whispered — "he  studies  nights.'9 

Miss  Bailey  took  the  old  lady's  hand 
and  shook  it  gratefully. 


193 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 


SAY!    What  you  think!"  cried  Re- 
becca Einstein  to  her  friend  and 
neighbor    Esther    Nolan.    "What  you 
think  we  got  to  our  house?" 
Esther  confessed  ignorance. 
"A  baby,"  cried  the  triumphant  Re- 
becca. 

"It's  mine,"  said  Esther  promptly.  "I 
writes  such  a  letter  on  the  Central  Park 
Stork  he  shall  bring  me  a  baby.  I  tells 
him  I  got  a  crib  even.  It's  too  little  fer 
me.  I  likes  I  shall  lay  all  longed  out  on 
the  sofa.  Und  extra  he  goes  and  makes 
mistakes  and  leaves  it  by  your  house. 
It's  boys,  ain't  it?" 

Rebecca  admitted  it  was  a  boy. 

"And  did  you  write  such  letters  on 
Storks?" 

197 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Again  Rebecca  admitted  that  she  had 
not.  "We  don't  got  to  write  no  letters 
over  babies,"  said  she  with  pride.  "We 
gets  'em  anyways.  My  mamma  is  got 
thirteen  childrens.  We  ain't  all  babies 
now,  but  we  was." 

Esther  returned  crestfallen  to  her 
second-floor  home,  and  sought  the  com- 
forting arms  of  Mrs.  Moriarty,  her 
chaperon  and  guardian. 

"But  whatever  made  you  write  for  a 
baby?"  demanded  Mrs.  Moriarty,  when 
the  Stork's  carelessness  had  been  ex- 
plained to  her.  "Aren't  you  and  your 
father  and  me  happy  enough  in  this 
grand  new  house  without  a  baby  to  be 
botherin'  us  ?" 

Unconsciously  she  had  touched  the 
root  of  Esther's  trouble. 

"I  needs  a  baby,"  she  wailed,  "the 
whiles  my  papa  he  ain't  lovin'  no  more  mit 
me.  And  I  wants  somebody  shall  love  me." 
198 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 


"Tut,  tut,  now!"  admonished  Mrs. 
Moriarty,  and  then  again,  "Tut,  tut! 
Now  Esther,  dear,"  said  she,  after  a 
pause,  "you're  getting  to  be  a  big  girl." 

"I'm  eight.    I  will  become  nine." 

"Please  God  you  will.  But,  anyway, 
you're  big  enough  to  know  that  your 
father  loves  you  as  much  as  ever  he  did, 
but  hasn't  time  to  show  it,  bein'  in  heavy 
trouble,  God  help  him.  You  know  about 
your  auntie,  her  that  was  to  have  the 
bringing  up  of  you  as  your  father  often 
tells  ye." 

"She  don't  never  comes,"  Esther  com- 
plained. "I  waits  und  I  waits  und  my 
auntie  don't  comes,  und  mine  papa  ain't 
lovin',  und  I  needs  I  shall  have  a  baby 
out  of  that  Central  Park." 

The  heart  loneliness  of  which  Esther 
complained  was  real  enough.  The  ma- 
terial prosperity  which  had  recently  fallen 
upon  her  had  deprived  her  of  all  the  old 
199 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

comfortable  joys  which  had  brightened 
less  prosperous  days.  Chief  among  these 
had  been  her  father's  light-hearted  com- 
panionship. Mrs.  Moriarty,  the  brightest 
feature  of  the  new  conditions,  did  her  best 
to  cheer  and  comfort  the  motherless  child, 
but  she  could  not  hope  to  take  the  place 
of  Jacob  Morowsky,  who  had  changed  in 
so  much  more  than  name  since  he  became 
John  Nolan.  Esther  had  dutifully  tried 
— and  failed — to  understand  why  she, 
who  had  for  so  long  been  Esther  Morow- 
sky, was  now  Esther  Nolan.  And  yet  the 
explanation  wTas  sufficiently  ordinary,  and 
was  the  cause  of  her  improved  surround- 
ings and  the  result  of  her  father's  preoc- 
cupation. 

Jacob  Morowsky  had,  upon  his  first 
coming  to  America,  found  employment 
with  old  John  Nolan,  whose  little  shop  of 
sacred  statues,  crucifixes,  and  holy  pict- 
ures was  the  survival  of  the  Irish  Catholic 
200 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 

era  in  Henry  Street's  history.  There  are 
not  many  traces  of  this  era  now  remain- 
ing, but  John  Nolan's  little  shop  was  one 
of  them,  and  economy  overcame  racial 
prejudice  on  the  day  he  engaged  Jacob 
Morowsky  as  his  assistant.  Later  he 
congratulated  himself  upon  this  apostasy, 
calling  it  interchangeably  "an  act  of 
charity,  no  more  than  that,"  or  "the  best 
bit  of  business  ever  I  done,"  for  Morow- 
sky was  an  artist,  and  the  heavenly  choir, 
as  represented  by  John  Nolan,  soon  be- 
came separate  dainty  works  of  art  more 
like  Tanagra  figurines  than  like  the  stiff 
and  stereotyped  figures  which  John  No- 
lan's six  or  seven  moulds  had  formerly 
produced. 

Later  still,  when  John  Nolan  was 
gathered  to  his  fathers,  and  afforded,  one 
must  presume,  the  opportunity  of  judg- 
ing the  accuracy  of  his  portraits,  he  left 
his  business  and  his  name  to  Jacob. 
201 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"For  without  the  name,"  said  he, 
"what  good  would  the  business  be  to  ye  ? 
Who  could  believe  that  the  likes  of  a 
Jacob  Morowsky  would  know  the  truth 
about  the  blessed  saints  ?  And  you're  not 
to  forget  what  I've  taught  you.  Arrows 
for  Saint  Sebastian,  flames  and  a  gridiron 
for  Saint  Lawrence,  a  big  book  for  Saint 
Luke  (he  was  a  scholard,  you  know),  and 
the  rosary  for  Saint  Dominick.  There's 
not  the  call  there  used  to  be  for  Saint 
Aloysius,  but  when  you're  doing  him, 
don't  forget  to  put  a  skull  in  his  hand. 
You  have  your  'Lives  of  the  Saints,' 
haven't  you  ?" 

"I  have,  dear  master,"  answered  Jacob. 

"Then  keep  on  studyin'  it.  And  ye'U 
do  what  ye  can  for  old  Biddy  Moriarty, 
that's  took  care  of  me  ever  since  me  poor 
wife  died." 

"She  shall  be  of  my  household,"  an- 
swered Jacob.  And  so  Esther  succeeded 
202 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 

to  the  old  man's  name  and  the  old 
woman's  care. 

Jacob  Morowsky  left  his  old  quarters, 
and  John  Nolan  took  up  his  residence  in 
the  front  room  of  the  second  floor  of  a 
house  that  had  been  the- residence  of  an 
English  official  when  New  York  was  a 
Colony  of  the  Crown.  The  house  had 
endured  many  vicissitudes  and  degrada- 
tions. It  was,  when  Esther  knew  it,  a 
tenement  unpopular  with  the  authorities 
because  it  could  not  quite  condescend  to 
the  laws  of  the  Tenement  House  Com- 
mission; and  not  too  popular  with  its 
landlord  because  its  rooms,  in  proportion 
to  its  ground  area,  were  extravagantly 
few.  Its  spacious  halls  and  staircase, 
its  high  ceilings  and  wide  chimneys  were 
all  so  many  waste  spaces  according  to 
modern  tenement  architecture. 

Esther  and  her  father  slept  in  the 
drawing-room  behind  a  red  curtain,  Es- 
203 


y         LITTLE  ALIENS 

ther  in  her  babyhood's  crib  which,  as 
she  had  written  to  the  Stork,  she  had 
quite  outgrown.  But  no  one  seemed  to 
notice  that.  No  one,  in  fact,  noticed  her 
very  much.  She  was  a  good  little  girl. 
She  was  never  late  or  troublesome 
at  school.  Every  Friday  afternoon  she 
brought  home  a  blue  ticket,  testifying 
that  her  application,  her  deportment,  and 
her  progress  were  satisfactory.  From 
time  to  time,  as  she  reached  new  altitudes 
in  the  course  of  study,  the  teacher's  name 
on  these  tickets  varied.  But  the  tickets 
were  the  only  link  between  Esther's  two 
lives  of  home  and  school.  No  reproach- 
ful teacher,  no  truant  officer  threatening 
arrest  and  the  Juvenile  Court,  ever  dark- 
ened her  horizon.  No  outraged  Prin- 
cipal ever  summoned  her  father  to  an  un- 
comfortable quarter  of  an  hour.  She 
was,  as  successive  teachers  noted  with 
amazement,  that  rara  avis  in  the  hu- 
204 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 

man  family,  a  normal  child.  Even  her 
clear  dark  eyes  and  her  dainty  little  feat- 
ures were  as  her  ancestry  decreed  that 
they  should  be.  And  the  clear  pallor  of 
her  skin — which  Mrs.  Moriarty  tried  to 
combat  by  dressing  her  much  in  red — 
was  the  normal  accompaniment  to  the 
fine  soft  blackness  of  her  hair. 

She  adored  her  father.  His  society  was 
her  sunshine,  and  since  he  had  become 
John  Nolan,  Esther's  days  had  been  very 
cloudy.  He  was  always  away  from  home. 
There  was  only  one  little  patch  of  the 
morning  of  Saturday,  the  Sabbath,  which 
Esther  could  call  her  own,  and  even  that 
was  broken  into  by  the  service  at  the 
Synagogue,  when  he  sat  upon  one  side 
of  the  aisle,  magnificent  in  black  broad- 
cloth and  silk  hat,  and  she  sat  upon  the 
other  side  among  the  maids  and  matrons. 
In  the  afternoon  he  was  at  work  again. 
She  was  in  my  Lady's  drawing-room,  or 
marketing  with  Mrs.  Moriarty. 

205 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"You're  to  bide  by  yourself  or  along 
with  me,"  Mrs.  Moriarty  had  often  ad- 
monished her.  "You're  to  bide  by  your- 
self till  your  auntie  comes." 

And  always  to  Esther's  eager  question, 
"When  is  she  coming?"  Mrs.  Moriarty's 
cryptic  answer  had  been,  "God  knows." 

But  when  she  understood  that  the  gloom 
of  the  drawing-room  had  forced  Esther 
into  the  writing  of  unsuspected  letters,  she 
deemed  it  wise  to  go  further  in  enlighten- 
ment. 

"You're  to  say  naught  of  this  to  your 
poor  father.  But  I'll  tell  you  the  mean- 
ing of  his  trouble.  Your  auntie  is  lost, 
my  dear." 

"Lost!"  cried  Esther. 

"Ay,  lost  in  this  cruel  hard  city. 
Lost  among  strangers  in  her  sorrow.  She 
was  comin'  over  to  live  with  the  two  of 
ye.  I'll  never  forget  the  night  your  fa- 
ther got  her  letter  sayin'  she  was  comin', 
and  for  him  to  meet  her  at  Ellis  Island. 
206 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 

I  went  in  an'  found  him  sitting  with  it  in 
his  hand,  with  the  look  of  death  on  his 
face.  For  the  letter  was  two  months  old 
when  he  got  it.  Some  mistake  about  his 
two  names  there  was,  and  the  date  she 
set  down  for  him  to  meet  her  was  six 
weeks  gone  when  her  letter  came.  Glory 
be  to  God,  but  it's  a  cruel  world!  An' 
her  husband  just  dead  on  her,  and  her  so 
lonely,  the  creature!  If  she  was  poor 
itself  we'd  have  a  better  chance  of  finding 
her,  through  some  of  the  charities  or  the 
hospitals,  maybe.  But  she  had  money 
enough  to  last  her  a  while,  and  she's  gone 
the  same  as  if  the  ground  had  swallied 
her  up." 

"Mine  papa,"  commented  Esther, 
"he's  got  it  pretty  hard,"  and  she  folded 
her  hands  in  her  lap  and  shook  her  head 
in  unconscious  but  triumphant  imitation 
of  Mrs.  Moriarty. 

"Hear  you  me,"  Mrs.  Moriarty  acqui- 
207 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

esced.  ' '  He  has  the  hardest  luck  ever  I 
heard  of.  His  sister's  husband's  name 
was  Cohen,  and  her  Christian  name" — 
Esther  looked  puzzled,  and  Mrs.  Mori- 
arty  politely  substituted — ' 'her  first  name 
was  Esther,  the  same  as  yours.  And 
when  your  poor  distracted  father  went  to 
find  out  did  e'er  an  Esther  Cohen  land 
the  day  she  mentioned  in  the  letter,  they 
told  him  that  twenty-five  did,  and  for 
him  to  go  away  with  his  jokes.  You 
know  the  world  is  full  of  Cohens." 

Esther  knew  more  than  that.  She 
knew  that  there  was  a  Cohen  in  the  house. 
She  was  not  supposed  to  form  friendships, 
but  she  cherished  two  or  three  in  secret, 
and  one  of  them  bore  the  name  of  Cohen. 

To  Esther  she  was  always  "the  lady  mit 
the  from-gold  hair,"  but  she  had  heard  a 
neighbor  once  address  her  as  Mrs.  Cohen. 
She  lived  in  what  must  have  been,  in  the 
days  of  the  house's  grandeur,  the  "  'twee- 
208 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 


ny's"  room  in  the  servants'  quarters,  on 
the  top  floor.  A  tiny  little  room  it  was, 
whose  one  window  opened  now  upon  a 
blank  wall,  though  the  'tweeny  may  have 
sat  at  it  and  watched  the  locks  and  the 
slow  canal-boats  where  now  Canal  Street 
runs.  There  in  the  dimness  Esther,  on 
her  surreptitious  way  back  from  a  surrep- 
titious visit  to  the  friendly  Top  Floor 
Front,  had  discovered  the  lady  mit  the 
from-gold  hair,  and  the  lady  was  crying. 

Esther's  heart  swelled  and  almost  burst 
beneath  the  square  breastplate  of  her 
apron,  and  presently  the  lady,  looking  up, 
met  two  deep  wells  of  sorrow  and  admira- 
tion fixed  upon  her.  And  so  their  friend- 
ship began.  It  persisted,  despite  Mrs. 
Moriarty's  warnings,  and  despite,  too, 
the  barrier  of  alien  tongue,  for  the  speech 
of  this  stranger  was  greatly  different  from 
the  Yiddish  spoken  in  that  Polish  and 
Russian  quarter.  In  the  other  wordless 
209 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

ways  of  love,  however,  she  threw  her 
lonely  little  heart  at  the  feet  of  the  lonely 
lady,  and  knew  that  another  secret  must 
lie  between  her  and  the  home  circle  in  the 
drawing-room. 

The  load  of  such  deceptions  upon  her 
•  conscience  was  not  heavy.  There  was 
only  the  kindly  Top  Floor  Front,  the 
janitor,  and  Rebecca  Einstein,  who  lived 
next  door,  and  who  was  in  Esther's  class 
at  school,  when  she  was  not  nursing  old 
and  new  babies  at  home. 

Mrs.  Moriarty  disapproved  of  the  Ein- 
steins.  Her  complaint  was  that  there 
were  too  many  of  them,  and  that  thirteen 
was  an  unlucky  number  for  a  party, 
whether  family  or  otherwise.  But  to 
Esther  their  number  was  their  greatest 
charm,  and  after  a  visit  to  their  crowded 
and  uproarious  circle,  the  quiet  drawing- 
room  seemed  very  chill  and  empty. 

When  Jacob  came  home  that  night, 
210 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 

Esther  was  awake  and  waiting  for  him 
with  a  proposition. 

The  Einsteins,  she  announced,  had 
a  superfluous  baby.  Would  not  he,  out 
of  his  loving  bounty,  buy  it  for  her? 
It  was  a  boy,  and  she,  Esther,  desired 
beyond  all  things  else  a  baby  brother. 
She  had  reason  to  believe  that  this  one 
was  really  hers.  She  had  forwarded  an 
application  to  the  proper  quarters. 

Jacob  took  his  little  girl  on  his  knee 
and  explained  the  situation  to  her. 

Purchase,  so  his  instructions  ran,  was 
not  the  usual  method  of  acquiring  in- 
fants. One  took  them,  or  did  without 
them,  as  the  big  Stork  pleased.  It  is 
true  that  babies  sometimes  were  adopted. 
If,  when  she  grew  a  little  older  and  he  a 
little  richer,  she  still  desired  a  brother,  they 
might  manage  to  adopt  one,  but  not,  as  he 
told  her  when  he  restored  her  to  her  crib, 
not  until  he  had  found  her  Aunt  Esther. 
211 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

And  when  he  had  eaten  his  supper  he 
came  again  to  Esther's  little  bed  and  told 
her,  as  he  sometimes  did,  stories  of  an- 
other little  brother  and  sister  who  had 
loved  and  played  together  in  the  long  ago. 
And  he  told  her,  too,  more  graphically 
than  Mrs.  Moriarty  could,  of  that 
brother's  desperate  search  for  his  sister. 
Of  all  the  promising  clews  which  led 
nowhere;  of  all  the  high  hopes  which 
ended  in  despair.  For  two  months  he 
had  neglected  his  business  and  his 
daughter  for  this  search,  and  he  was 
beginning  to  believe  that  his  sister  was 
dead. 

Esther  caressed  and  comforted  him  as 
best  she  might,  and  after  holding  her 
silently  for  a  few  moments,  he  carefully 
tucked  her  into  bed  again,  and  went  out 
into  the  crowded,  sordid  streets,  to  search 
— hopelessly  and  doggedly — for  the  little 
sister  of  his  childhood. 

212 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 

As  the  days  passed  and  her  father  con- 
fided more  and  more  in  her  great  love 
and  sympathy,  Esther  became  reconciled 
to  the  Stork's  mistake,  and  decided  that 
she  could  wait  until  he  brought  a  baby 
without  urging  or  request.  She  was  very 
busy.  Her  lady  mit  the  from-gold  hair 
was  ill — very  ill,  indeed.  She  lay  upon 
her  bed  very  white  and  quiet,  and  the 
First  Floor  Front  took  care  of  her. 
There  was  also  occasionally  a  doctor, 
and  there  were  always  the  garrulous,  if 
not  over-helpful  neighbors.  In  any  other 
case  it  is  possible  that  Mrs.  Moriarty's 
known  generosity  and  surmised  skill 
would  have  been  called  into  requisition, 
but  the  lady  mit  the  from-gold  hair  spoke 
no  English,  and  Esther  entreated  that 
Mrs.  Moriarty  should  not  be  consulted, 
as  that  would  mean  her  own  instant 
banishment  to  the  lonely  drawing-room. 
And  so  Mrs.  Moriarty  was  allowed  to 
213 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


form  her  own  explanation  for  Esther's 
long  absences,  while  Esther,  light  of  hand 
and  step,  served  her  golden-haired  lady 
friend. 

Mrs.  Moriarty's  natural  supposition 
had  been  that  Esther  was  with  the  baby 
so  carelessly  turned  over  to  the  Einsteins ; 
and  occasionally,  of  course,  she  did  visit 
that  official  error.  But  as  its  novelty 
diminished  and  its  lung  power  increased 
Esther  became  reconciled  to  the  mistake. 

"He  cried,  awful,"  Rebecca  would  ex- 
plain, "und  we  didn't  really  need  him. 
We  had  lots.  The  old  baby  ain't  yet  so 
big.  She  couldn't  to  stand  even.  Und 
she  needs  all  her  clothes.  My  poor 
mamma  has  it  pretty  hard." 

"Ain't  it  funny?"  mused  Esther,  all 
unconscious  that  she  was  grappling  with 
a  world  problem.  "Ain't  it  funny, 
Becky  ?  You  got  too  many  families,  und 
so  you  gets  some  more.  I  ain't  got  no 
214 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 


families,  und  I  loses  mine  auntie.  Ain't 
it  fierce  ?" 

"It  sure  is  fierce,"  her  friend  admitted 
through  the  howls  of  the  youngest  Ein- 
stein. "But  don't  you  care,  Esther.  I 
guess,  maybe,  that  Stork  will  get  round  to 
your  order  soon.  One  baby,"  she  spoke 
from  experience  and  with  conviction,  "is 
lots  of  family." 

"I  don't  know  do  I  needs  that  kind 
from  baby  what  you  got,"  Esther  ob- 
jected. "It's  an  awful  loud  baby,  ain't 
it?" 

"It  is,"  Rebecca  admitted.  And  any 
one  of  the  fifteen  Einsteins  or  even  any 
neighbor  to  the  fourth  or  fifth  house  re- 
moved would  have  corroborated  her. 

"Und  it's  got  black  hair,"  Esther  fur- 
ther objected. 

"They  all  do  when  they  ain't  red- 
headed," retorted  the  now  ruffled  Re- 
becca. "Ain't  you  got  nothin'  to  do 
215 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


on'y  knockin'  other  people's  babies  ? 
First  off  you  says  he's  yours,  und  now 
you  says  he's  too  loud  und  too  black. 
Well,  he  ain't  too  loud  or  too  black  fer 
me.  You  wait  till  your  own  baby  comes. 
Maybe  you'll  get  somethin'  worster,  with 
fish's  faces,  maybe.  How  will  you  like 
that?  You  can't  never  tell  what  kind 
they're  goin'  to  be,  an'  you've  got  to 
keep  'em." 

This  haphazard  system — or  the  lack 
of  it — rather  alarmed  Esther,  though  the 
desire  for  a  baby  of  her  own  design  and 
choosing  was  growing  stronger  every  day. 
For  her  loneliness  was  growing,  too. 
Jacob  was  hardly  ever  at  home.  He 
spent  many  of  his  days  and  all  of  his  even- 
ings in  his  fruitless,  endless  search.  And 
Mrs.  Moriarty  had  begun  to  help  him 
through  some  subterranean  first-cousin- 
twice-removed  channel  which  connected 
her  with  a  member  of  the  police  force. 
216 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 

She  was  making  a  canvass  of  the  women's 
lodging-houses  near  the  Bowery. 

So  Esther,  having  much  time  upon  her 
hands,  turned  her  thoughts  again  to  the 
upbringing  of  a  brother,  and  wrote  again 
to  the  headquarters  in  Central  Park,  and 
impressed  upon  the  authorities — in  large 
round  writing  upon  a  sheet  of  pink  paper 
with  two  turtle  doves  embossed  upon  it — 
that  she  was  not  in  a  hurry  for  her  baby, 
and  would  prefer  to  wait  until  they  found 
a  really  acceptable  article.  If  possible, 
she  would  prefer  from-gold  hair,  blue 
eyes,  and  a  silent  tongue.  For  such  an 
infant  her  outgrown  crib,  a  warm  wel- 
come, and  comfortable  home  were  wait- 
ing.   No  others  need  apply. 

When  this  letter  was  despatched  she 
felt  greatly  relieved,  and  set  about  the 
nursing  of  the  lady  mit  the  from-gold  hair 
with  renewed  energy.  And  the  lady 
needed  her  little  friend  and  welcomed 
217 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

her  always  with  a  gentle  smile,  though  a 
large  and  unwonted  female  was  now 
regularly  established  in  the  room,  from 
which  she  relentlessly  barred  more  dis- 
turbing and  autobiographical  visitors. 

All  through  her  illness,  indeed  ever 
since  her  first  coming  into  that  house,  she 
had  kept  the  door  open,  and  she  lay  so 
that  she  could  watch  the  stairs.  Whom 
she  was  waiting  for  she  never  told,  but 
she  was  always  listening.  She  knew  the 
step  of  every  fellow  lodger,  of  the  doctor, 
of  any  one  who  had  ever  once  climbed 
those  stairs.  And  at  the  approach  of 
any  new  footstep  she  would  sit  up  rigidly 
among  her  pillows,  staring  and  listening 
so  intently  that  when  the  new-comer  ap- 
peared and  brought  disappointment,  she 
would  sink  back  gasping  and  exhausted. 

"What  does  she  says?"  Esther  once 
asked  the  imposing  nurse,  when  a  visitor 
for  the  Top  Floor  Front  had  precipitated 
218 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 


one  of  these  attacks.  "What  does  she 
says  when  she  cries?" 

"She  says,"  interpreted  the  nurse, 
' '  '  He  is  dead.  It  must  be  that  he  is  dead.' 
Yet  we  know  that  her  husband  is  dead. 
She  still  expects  some  one." 

"Maybe,"  said  Esther,  arguing  from  her 
own  state  of  mind  to  that  of  her  friend, 
"maybe  she  expects  a  Stork  mit  babies." 

The  woman  caught  Esther  by  the  shoul- 
ders and  peered  down  into  her  eyes. 
"So  they  have  been  talking  to  you,"  she 
said  with  immense  scorn.  "Oh,  those 
women!" 

"Nobody  ain't  told  me  nothings," 
Esther  answered.  "I  don't  know  noth- 
ings. Only  I  thinks  it  in  mine  heart. 
And  anyway,  the  first  baby  what  comes 
here  is  mine.  I  writes  on  the  Central 
Park  a  letter  over  it.  It's  going  to  be  a 
boy  mit  from-gold  hair." 

"Well,"  snorted  the  nurse  with  some 
219 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

professional  pique,  "it's  good  you  got 
that  settled." 

Late  that  night  Esther  awoke  in  her 
little  outgrown  crib.  A  familiar  series  of 
sounds  had  disturbed  her:  the  arrival 
of  the  doctor.  So  the  lady  mit  the  from- 
gold  hair  was  presumably  worse.  The 
doctor's  steps  mounted  into  the  darkness 
and  silence  of  the  sleeping  house,  and  the 
clock  in  Mrs.  Moriarty's  room  struck  two. 
Esther  lay  wide-eyed  in  the  dark  and 
waited  for  the  sound  of  the  doctor's  re- 
turn, but  she  heard  nothing  except  the 
far-away  clang  and  shriek  of  an  occasional 
cable-car  and  the  sound  of  stealthy,  hur- 
rying feet  upon  the  sidewalk.  She  sat 
up,  and  in  the  dim  reflection  from  the 
electric  light  on  the  street  corner  she  dis- 
tinguished the  shapeless  bulk  that  was 
her  sleeping  father.  Jacob  had  only  re- 
cently come  in  from  his  quest,  and  he 
slept  the  sleep  of  exhaustion. 

220 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 


Cold  had  no  terrors  for  her;  she  was 
clad,  feet  and  all,  in  an  Esquimaux  gar- 
ment of  brilliant  pink  flannel  of  Mrs. 
Moriarty's  contriving. 

And  still  the  doctor  did  not  come  down. 
Esther  climbed  to  the  floor  and  noiselessly 
unlocked  the  door.  In  the  hall  a  deadly 
quiet  served  as  a  background  for  Mr. 
Finkelstein's  snoring.  And  then  Esther's 
summons  came.  Shrill  and  clear  from 
the  darkness  above  dropped  the  cry  of  a 
new-born  child.  Hers!  The  Stork  had 
blundered  again. 

"Oh,  my!"  wailed  Esther,  "ain't 
Storks  the  fools?  In  all  my  world  I 
ain't  never  seen  how  he  makes  mistakes. 
I  told  him  just  as  plain:  Second  Floor 
Front.  Und  extra  he  goes  und  maybe 
wakes  up  the  lady  mit  the  from-gold  hair 
over  it.  She's  got  it  hard  enough  'out  no 
babies  yelling." 

As  Esther  toiled  toward  the  sound,  she 
221 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

realized  that  yet  another  mistake  had 
been  made,  it  was  'a  loud  one.'  Now 
what  would  her  father  say — and  Mrs. 
Moriarty  ?  But  this  was  no  time  for  such 
questioning.  Her  plain  duty  was  to  col- 
lect her  property  and  prevent  its  disturb- 
ing the  whole  house. 

When  she  reached  her  friend's  room 
she  found  that  the  disturbance  had  taken 
place  and  was  still  in  progress.  The 
nurse,  the  doctor,  and  the  Top  Floor 
Front  were  gathered  about  the  bed,  pre- 
sumably reassuring  their  patient,  and 
upon  a  pillow  thrown  into  a  rocking- 
chair  the  Stork  had  left  Esther's  gold- 
haired  brother. 

Oh!  it  was  easy,  fatally  easy,  to  recog- 
nize the  answer  to  her  petition!  The 
noise  subsided  as  Esther  noiselessly  pat- 
tered over  to  it,  and  from  an  end  of  its 
roll  of  flannel  a  bright  head  projected. 
Esther  picked  it  up  and  beat  a  hasty 
222 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 

retreat  unobserved  by  the  workers  at 
the  bedside.  Down  the  dark  stairs  she 
passed  with  her  burden,  and  into  the 
drawing-room  again.  She  snuggled  down 
beside  it  in  her  crib  and  for  a  few  ecstatic 
moments  held  it  in  her  arms.  The  clock 
struck  four,  and,  as  Esther  quivered  and 
listened  still  for  the  descent  of  the  doctor, 
the  baby  raised  up  its  voice  again  in  one 
prolonged  and  breathless  yell.  Jacob 
was  beside  the  crib  in  an  instant  and  had 
his  daughter  in  his  arms. 

"What  is  it?"  he  questioned  wildly. 
"  Where  is  it  ?  What  hurt  thee  ?"  And 
then  his  heart  too  skipped  a  beat,  for 
he  found  that  though  he  had  Esther  in 
his  arms  he  had  left  her  voice  in  the 
crib. 

"It  ain't  me,"  she  finally  managed  to 
assure  him.  "It's  mine  little  brother 
what  I  gets  out  of  the  Central 
Park." 

223 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


Lights,  Mrs.  Moriarty,  explanations, 
and  expostulations  followed. 

"I  tells  that  Stork,"  Esther  ended,  "I 
tells  him  I  ain't  got  no  families  und  no 
aunties,  und  I  needs  a  baby,  und  I  has 
a  bed  ready.  It  is  mine  baby.  Storks 
is  crazy  fools!" 

But  the  inexorable  John  Nolan  set  out 
upon  his  mission  of  restitution.  Esther, 
puzzled,  heart-broken,  argumentative, 
sped  on  before,  and  reached,  not  without 
some  skirmishing,  the  side  of  the  golden- 
haired  lady,  while  her  father  was  still 
struggling  with  the  darkness  and  his  un- 
accustomed burden. 

And  then  the  miracles  began.  The 
lady  heard  a  step  upon  the  stairs  and  a 
great  radiance  fell  upon  her.  Wonder, 
incredulity,  and  joy  shone  in  her  lovely 
eyes.  The  doctor's  hand  was  on  her 
wrist.  The  nurse's  admonitions  were  in 
her  ears.  But  she  raised  herself  among 
224 


"THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES" 


her  pillows  and  watched  the  turn  of  the 
stairs  where  a  shaft  of  light  streamed 
through  the  open  door. 

Esther's  father  came  out  of  the  dark- 
ness, and  the  lady  wrenched  her  hand 
from  the  doctor  and  stretched  both  her 
arms  toward  the  oncoming  figure,  and 
"Jacob,"  said  she,  and  quite  gently 
fainted  into  the  doctor's  arms. 

"No  excitement,  no  fuss,"  commanded 
that  authority.  "She's  all  right,  coming 
round  in  a  minute.  Here,  stand  there. 
Speak  naturally  to  her.  There,  she's 
coming  now." 

"Why,  Esther,"  said  Jacob  quietly  in 
soft  Hungarian,  "I've  been  wondering 
where  you  were." 

The  lady  mit  the  from-gold  hair  laid 
her  other  hand  on  his,  smiled  a  little 
wearily,  and  instantly  dropped  asleep. 

"You  ain't  asked  her  whose  is  that 
baby,"  his  daughter  whispered  to  him. 
225 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

"You  ain't  asked  her  did  she  write 
letters  on  that  Stork?" 

"I  guess  it's  our  baby  all  right,"  her 
father  answered.  "  You  just  carry  it 
down  and  put  it  in  the  bed  that's  been 
waiting  for  it.  Tell  Mrs.  Moriarty  that 
your  auntie  was  living  here  all  the  time." 

"Mine  auntie!"  cried  Esther.  "Mine 
auntie!  My,  but  Storks  is  smart!"  she 
gasped  repentantly. 


226 


» 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 


STANDS  a  girl  by  our  block,"  Eva 
Gonorowsky  began,  as  she  and 
her  friend  Yetta  Aaronsohn  wended  their 
homeward  way  through  the  crowded  pur- 
lieus of  Gouverneur  and  Monroe  Streets, 
"  stands  a  girl  by  our  block  what  don't 
never  goes  on  the  school." 

Yetta  was  obediently  shocked.  She 
had  but  recently  been  rescued  from  a  like 
benightment,  but  both  she  and  her  friend 
tactfully  ignored  this  fact. 

"Don't  the  Truant  Officer  gets  her?" 
the  convert  questioned,  remembering  her 
own  means  to  grace,  and  the  long  struggle 
she  had  made  against  it.  "Don't  the 
Truant  Officer  comes  on  her  house  und 
says  cheek  on  her  mamma,  und  brings  her 
— by  the  hair,  maybe — on  the  school  ?" 
229 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"He  don't  comes  yet,"  Eva  replied. 

"Well,  he's  comin',"  Yetta  predicted. 
"He  comes  all  times." 

"I  guess,"  commented  Eva,  "I  guess 
Rosie  Rashnowsky  needs  somebody  shall 
make  somethings  like  that  mit  her.  In 
all  my  world  I  ain't  never  see  how  she 
makes.  She  don't  know  what  is  polite. 
She  puts  her  on  mit  funny  clothes  und 
'fer-ladies-shoes.'  She  is  awful  fresh, 
und" — here  Eva  dropped  her  voice  to  a 
tone  proper  to  a  climax — "she  dances  on 
organs  even." 

Now  Yetta  Aaronsohn,  in  the  days  be- 
fore the  Truant  Officer  and  the  Renais- 
sance, would  have  run  breathless  blocks 
at  the  distant  lure  of  a  street  organ,  and 
would  have  footed  it  merrily  up  and  down 
the  sidewalk  in  all  the  apparently  spon- 
taneous intricacies  which  make  this  kind 
of  dancing  so  absorbing  to  the  performer, 
and  so  charming  to  the  audience.  Now, 
230 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 


however,  she  shuddered  under  the  shock 
of  such  depravity.  School  had  taught  her 
many  things  not  laid  down  in  the  official 
course  of  study. 

" Ain't  that  fierce?"  she  murmured. 

Not  all  subjects  of  gossip  are  as  con- 
firmative as  Rosie  Rashnowsky  that  day 
proved  herself  to  be.  For  as  Yetta  and 
Eva  turned  into  Clinton  Street,  Rosie  was 
discovered  dancing  madly  to  the  strains 
of  a  one-legged  hurdy-gurdy,  in  the  midst 
of  an  envious  but  not  emulating  crowd. 

"That's  her,"  said  Eva  briefly.  "Sooner 
you  stands  on  the  stoop  you  shall  see 
her  better." 

And  when  the  two  friends  carried  out 
this  suggestion  and  mounted  the  nearest 
steps,  Eva  pointed  to  what  seemed  a 
bundle  of  inanimate  rags. 

"It's  her  baby,"  she  disapprovingly  re- 
marked. "She  lays  it  all  times  on  steps. 
Somebody  could  to  set  on  it  sometimes." 
231 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"It's  fierce,"  repeated  Yetta,  this  time 
with  more  conviction.  She  was  herself 
the  guardian  of  three  small  and  ailing 
sisters,  and  she  knew  that  they  should 
not  be  deposited  on  cold  doorsteps.  So 
she  picked  up  Rosie's  abandoned  re- 
sponsibility, and  turned  to  survey  that 
conscienceless  Salome. 

Rosie  was,  as  a  dancer  should  be,  start- 
lingly  arrayed.  Her  long  black-stockinged 
little  legs  ended  in  "  fer-ladies-shoes  "  de- 
scribed by  Eva.  Her  hair  bobbed  wildly 
in  four  tight  little  braids,  each  tied  with  a 
ribbon  or  a  strip  of  cloth  of  a  different 
color,  and  the  rest  of  her  visible  attire 
consisted  of  a  dirty  kimona  dressing- 
jacket,  red  with  yellow  flowers,  and  out- 
lined with  bands  of  green.  The  "fer- 
ladies-shoes"  poised  and  pointed  and 
twinkled  in  time  to  the  wheezing  of  the 
one-legged  hurdy-gurdy.  The  parti-col- 
ored braids  waved  free.  The  kimona 
232 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

flapped  and  fluttered  and  permitted  in- 
discreet glimpses  of  a  less  gorgeous 
substructure. 

Miss  Gonorowsky  regarded  these  ex- 
cesses with  a  cold  and  disapproving  eye. 
"She  don't  know  what  is  fer  her,"  she 
remarked.  "My  mamma,  she  wouldn't 
to  leave  me  dance  by  no  organs.  It  ain't 
fer  ladies." 

"It's  fierce,"  agreed  Miss  Aaronsohn, 
with  a  gulp,  "it's  something  fierce." 

The  hurdy-gurdy  coughed  its  way  to 
the  end  of  one  tune,  held  its  breath  for 
an  asthmatic  moment,  and  then  wailed 
into  "The  Sidewalks  of  New  York." 
Fresh  and  amazing  energy  possessed  the 
hair  ribbons,  the  kimona,  and  the  "fer- 
ladies-shoes."  Fresh  disdain  possessed 
Miss  Gonorowsky.  The  tune  would  have 
seemed  also  to  work  havoc  upon  the  new 
propriety  of  Miss  Aaronsohn. 

"It's  something  fierce,"  she  once  more 
233 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

remarked,  and  then  casting  decorum  to 
the  winds,  and  the  abandoned  young 
Rashnowsky  to  Miss  Gonorowsky's  care, 
she  sped  down  the  steps,  through  the 
crowd  and  out  into  the  ring. 

Rosie,  though  she  had  never  seen  Miss 
Aaronsohn  before,  recognized  her  talent 
instantly,  and  welcomed  her  partnership 
with  an  ecstatic  combination  of  the  Cake 
Walk  and  the  Highland  Fling.  Yetta  re- 
turned the  compliment  in  a  few  steps  of 
the  Barn  Dance  flavored  with  a  dash  of 
the  Irish  Jig.  Then  eye  to  eye,  and 
hands  on  one  another's  shoulders,  they 
fell  to  "spieling,"  with  occasional  Polka 
divertisements. 

A  passing  stranger  stopped  to  watch 
them  and  gave  the  organ-man  largesse,  so 
that  still  he  played,  and  still  they  danced 
until  called  back  to  duty  and  reality  by 
the  uproar  of  the  baby,  now  thrice  aban- 
doned. For  Eva  Gonorowsky  had  gone 
234 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

virtuously  home,  feeling  that  her  tradi- 
tions had  been  outraged,  her  friendship 
despised,  and  that  her  disciple  had  dis- 
graced her. 

Yetta  and  Rosie  with  the  heavy-headed 
baby  followed  the  organ  for  several  blocks. 
They  might  have  gone  on  forever  like 
the  Pied  Piper's  rats,  had  not  the  howls 
of  the  youngest  Rashnowsky  anchored 
and  steadied  them.  When  at  last  they 
had  recovered  breath  and  the  proprieties, 
they  sat  amicably  down  upon  an  alien 
doorstep,  and  went  back  to  the  early — 
and  in  their  case  neglected — prelimina- 
ries of  friendship. 

They  exchanged  names,  ages,  addresses, 
the  numbers  of  their  family,  and  their  own 
places  in  the  scale.  The  baby  had  oblig- 
ingly gone  to  sleep,  and  these  amenities 
were  carried  out  in  due  form.  It  seemed 
that  they  were  bound  by  many  similari- 
ties of  circumstance  and  fate:  each  was 
235 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

the  eldest  of  a  family,  but  whereas  Rosie 
could  boast  but  one  baby,  Yetta's  mother 
had  three.  Both  mothers  worked  at  low 
and  ill-paid  branches  of  the  tailor's  art. 
And  both  children  were  fatherless  to  all 
daily  intents  and  purposes. 

"Mine  papa,"  Yetta  told  her  new  little 
friend,  "is  pedlar-mans  on  the  country. 
Me  und  mine  mamma  don't  know  where 
he  is  even.  From  long  we  ain't  got  no 
letters  off  of  him,  und  no  money.  My 
mamma,  she  has  awful  sads  over  it." 

"Does  she  cry?"  questioned  the  sym- 
pathetic Rosie,  drawing  her  kimona  close- 
ly about  her  in  the  enjoyment  of  this  new 
and  promising  gossip. 

Yetta  shook  her  head.  "She  ain't  got 
no  time  she  shall  cry.  So  my  papa  don't 
comes,  und  letters  mit  money  off  of  him 
don't  comes.  My  mamma,  she  ain't  got 
time  for  nothings  on'y  sewing.  She  has 
it  pretty  hard." 

236 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

"My  mamma  is  got  it  hard  too,"  cried 
Rosie,  not  to  be  outdone.  "She  don't 
know  where  my  papa  is  neither.  She 
don't  know  is  he  on  the  country  even. 
She  don't  know  nothings  over  him.  Me 
und  my  mamma  we  looks  all  times  on 
blocks  und  streets  und  stores.  On'y  we 
couldn't  to  find  him.  Und  my  mamma, 
she  works  all  day  by  factories,  und  by 
night  she  comes  on  the  house  und  brings 
more  work.  She  ain't  got  time  for  noth- 
ings neither,  on'y  sewing  und  looking  fer 
my  poor  papa." 

"Then  your  papa  ain't  dead  ?"  queried 
Yetta. 

"No,  he  ain't  dead;  on'y  he  loses  him 
the  job."  Rosie's  voice  as  she  made 
this  statement,  and  Yetta's  manner  as  she 
received  it,  would  seem  to  say  that  if  this 
were  not  death,  it  was  very  little  better. 

To  Isidore  Rashnowsky  it  had  been 
the  "sudden  and  unprovided  death"  of 
237 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

which  the  Prayer  Book  speaks.  It  had 
meant  the  destruction  of  the  very  delicate 
equilibrium  by  which  he  and  his  wife 
maintained  their  tiny  but  peaceful  house- 
hold. It  threw  the  whole  burden  of  four 
lives  upon  Mrs.  Rashnowsky's  thin  and 
twisted  shoulders.  It  drove  him,  after 
three  weeks  of  unsuccessful  quest  for 
work,  to  cut  himself  off  from  all  he  cared 
for.  Starvation  was  very  close  to  them. 
He  could  contribute  nothing,  and  he  de- 
termined to  take  nothing:  to  increase  the 
niggardly  supply  by  diminishing  the  hun- 
gry demand.  Mrs.  Rashnowsky's  earn- 
ings— even  when  augmented  by  the  home 
work  which  the  law  forbids  but  life  de- 
mands— was  scant  indeed  for  the  main- 
tenance of  the  mother  and  the  two  chil- 
dren. All  these  things  Isidore  explained 
to  her  patiently,  resignedly,  and  with 
what  bravery  he  could  muster.  And  she 
agreed,  nodding  wearily  over  her  sewing. 
238 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

But  from  his  conclusion,  from  his  deter- 
mination to  remove  himself  and  his  hun- 
ger from  her  charge,  she  persistently  dis- 
sented. Rather,  she  insisted,  would  she 
take  the  babies  to  the  Children's  Court 
and  get  them  committed  to  some  insti- 
tution. Then  he  and  she  could  face  the 
world  together.  She  could  find  courage 
for  that.  But  not  to  live  without  him. 
Never  for  that. 

"It  is  but  for  a  time,"  he  hopefully  re- 
monstrated, "and  if  we  give  the  children 
we  cannot  easily  get  them  back.  Chil- 
dren such  as  ours  are  not  often  found. 
They  would  be  adopted  by  some  rich 
man  before,  maybe,  I  could  find  a  job." 

This  consideration  had  not  occurred 
to  Mrs.  Rashnowsky,  but  when  it  was 
pointed  out  to  her  she  was  forced  to  ad- 
mit its  weight.  The  physical  charm  of 
Rosie,  kimona  clad  and  dirty,  might  not 
have  appealed  as  insistently  as  her  father 
239 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

feared  to  the  rich  adopter,  and  the  rag- 
wrapped  baby  would  have  been  equally 
safe.  But  to  Mrs.  Rashnowsky's  fear 
and  pride,  to  see  these  infants  was  to 
covet  them. 

And  so,  tearfully,  fearfully,  she  prom- 
ised to  think  again  of  Isidore's  proposal. 
She  thought  all  night,  and  all  through  the 
hurried,  steaming,  driven  day  at  the  fac- 
tory. When  at  last  she  was  free  she 
toiled  home  to  tell  him  that  she  could  not  do 
without  him,  and  found  that  he  had  gone. 

All  these  things  had  happened,  as 
Rosie  told  her  new  friend,  three  months 
before.  The  mother  had  been  forced  into 
smaller,  darker,  cheaper  quarters,  and  it 
was  this  transition  which  had  so  far  saved 
Rosie  from  the  Truant  Officer.  They 
had  moved  from  one  school  district  to 
another,  and  the  authorities  of  their  new 
habitat  had  not  yet  tracked  the  light-fall- 
ing "fer-ladies-shoes." 

240 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

"But  that  Truant  Officer  will  get  you 
sure,"  warned  Yetta.  "He  comes  in  my 
house  and  he  gets  me,  und  makes  me  I 
shall  go  on  the  school." 

"He  can  go  on  mine  house  all  he  likes," 
responded  the  lawless  Rosie,  making  care- 
ful inventory  of  her  hair  ribbons  the 
while,  "all  he  likes  he  can  go.  There 
ain't  never  nobody  there.  My  mamma 
she  is  all  times  on  factories,  und  me  und 
the  baby  is  all  times  by  the  street.  I 
don't  needs  I  shall  go  on  no  school.  I 
ain't  got  time." 

"He'll  get  you  on  a  rainy  day,"  main- 
tained Cassandra. 

But  the  dread  official  never  did  dis- 
cover Rosie.  She  was  sufficiently  wise 
to  avoid  any  public  display  of  her  red 
and  yellow  charms  until  after  school 
hours,  unless  she  were  well  out  of  her 
own  district.  She  would  follow  street 
organs  and  behave  like  any  other  member 
241 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

of  a  decorous  audience  until  she  was  well 
out  of  the  path  of  the  ravening  Truant 
Officer.  Then  she  would  abandon  the 
baby  to  the  cold  stones,  and  herself  to 
the  enchantment  of  the  music.  Thus 
she  achieved  that  freedom  of  which  her 
adopted  country  boasts,  and  for  which 
Yetta  Aaronsohn — though  basking  in  the 
rays  of  a  free  education,  with  lunches, 
medical  attendance,  and  spectacles  thrown 
in — still  yearned. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  life  had 
been  to  Yetta,  even  as  it  now  was  to  Rosie, 
a  simple  matter  of  loving  and  helping  her 
mother,  taking  care  of  the  babies,  and 
dancing  to  the  organs  in  the  street.  Then 
entered  the  Truant  Officer,  and  life  be- 
came a  complicated  affair  of  manners, 
dress,  books,  washing,  and  friendships, 
with  every  day  new  laws  to  be  met,  new 
ideas  to  be  assimilated,  old  pleasures  and 
employments  to  be  thrown  aside. 

242 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

That  the  end  of  his  three  months  of 
wandering  found  Isidore  alive  bordered 
on  the  miraculous;  that  the  end  of  these 
three  months  found  him  in  congenial  em- 
ployment was  altogether  a  miracle.  Yet 
these  things  had  occurred,  and  Isidore's 
long  loneliness  and  self-imposed  exile 
were  nearly  over,  when  his  daughter  and 
Miss  Aaronsohn  melted  their  souls  to- 
gether in  the  langorous  solvent  of  66 Silver 
Threads  Among  the  Gold."  On  the  en- 
suing Saturday  he  was  to  receive  his  first 
week's  wages  as  janitor's  assistant  in  a 
combination  of  restaurant,  hall,  and 
Masonic  lodge,  much  patronized  by 
small  and  earnest  clubs  or  societies,  hav- 
ing no  permanent  stamping  ground  of 
their  own.  On  the  Friday  afternoon  the 
large  hall  was  occupied  by  '  '  The  Cornelia 
Aid  Society  for  the  Instruction  of  Igno- 
rant Parents  Among  the  Poor."  It  had 
been  the  happy  idea  of  one  of  the  vice- 
243 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

presidents  to  hold  the  meeting  within  the 
citadel  as  it  were  of  poor  and  ignorant 
parenthood,  so  that  the  members  coming 
gingerly  through  unimagined  streets  and 
evidences  of  parenthood  appallingly  ig- 
norant, might  derive — the  vice-president 
was  fond  of  the  vernacular — some  idea 
of  what  the  society  was  "up  against." 
Automobiles,  victorias,  disgusted  footmen, 
and  blasphemous  chauffers  thronged  the 
unaccustomed  street,  and  the  children  of 
Israel  thronged  about  them. 

A  genius  for  opportunity  drew  Gius- 
seppi  Pagamini  and  his  new  piano  organ 
to  this  sensational  business  opening,  and 
the  sweet  strains  of  the  piano  organ  drew 
Rosie  Rashnowsky  after  him.  They  had 
drawn  her  for  many  blocks,  and  the  meet- 
ing of  the  Cornelias  was  in  full  swing  when 
her  kimona  and  hair  ribbons  came  into 
play  upon  the  sidewalk.  She  laid  the 
baby  upon  the  steps,  swept  clean  for  her 
244 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

reception  by  Isidore  the  conscientious, 
who  had  little  idea — as  he  plied  his  broom 
and  scrubbing-brush  earlier  in  the  day — 
that  he  was  strewing  the  couch  of  his  own 
small  daughter's  siesta. 

Then  to  an  audience  composed  of  glori- 
fied gentlemen  in  silk  hats  and  top-boots, 
and  the  quieter  but  still  sumptuous 
chauffeur  livery,  Rosie  threw  herself  into 
a  very  ecstasy  of  her  art.  Louder  thrilled 
Giusseppi,  quicker  flew  the  "fer-ladies- 
shoes,"  wilder  waved  ribbons  and  dressing 
jacket.  "Out  o'  sight,"  commented  the 
footmen.  "Bravissimo,"  ejaculated  the 
chauffeurs,  and  Rosie  reached  the  climax 
of  her  career  in  a  pirouette  which  brought 
her,  madly  whirring,  under  the  aristocratic 
noses  of  a  pair  of  chestnut  cobs,  whose 
terrified  plunges  would  have  ended  her 
gyrations  forever  and  a  day  if  a  foot- 
man had  not  interfered.  Then  Giusseppi 
passed  his  battered  hat,  and  the  audience, 
245 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

naturally  inferring  that  the  black-eyed 
child  belonged  to  the  black-eyed  musician, 
threw  him  such  encouragement  as  a  week 
of  ordinary  days  would  not  have  brought 
him. 

In  a  reckless  moment  he  gave  Rosie  a 
nickel,  and  this  wealth,  combined  with 
her  recent  danger  and  escape,  and 
with  the  intoxicating  quality  of  her  audi- 
ence, made  Rosie  follow  Giusseppi  to  the 
other  end  of  the  line  of  carriages  which 
trailed  round  the  corner  and  half-way 
down  the  next  block.  Here  fresh  tri- 
umphs awaited  her,  while  from  the  steps 
of  Fraternity  Hall  her  infant  sister  called 
aloud  for  instant  speech  with  her.  The 
infant  was  still  making  these  inarticulate 
demands,  when  Mrs.  Ponsonby-Brown, 
holding  her  skirts  well  above  her  shoe 
tops  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other 
she  applied  a  bottle  of  lavender  salts  to 
her  nose,  approached  the  meeting.  She 
246 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

was  late  but  unflurried.  Her  horses, 
somewhat  racked  by  the  elevated  trains 
in  Allen  Street,  had  been  entirely  un- 
nerved by  the  children,  the  push-carts, 
the  dogs,  and  the  flying  papers,  which 
beset  them  from  all  sides  and  sprang  up 
under  their  nervous  feet.  So  the  phil- 
anthropic Mrs.  Ponsonby-Brown  had 
alighted  from  her  carriage,  secured  a 
small  though  knowing-looking  guide,  and 
walked  to  her  destination.  Presently  she 
reached  the  hall,  rewarded  her  guide,  and 
stopped  in  her  surge  up  the  steps  by  the 
yells  of  the  youngest  Rashnowsky,  which 
had  broken  free  of  its  mummy  clothes, 
and  was  battling  for  breath  with  two 
arms  like  slate-pencils — as  cold,  as  thin, 
as  gray,  and  seemingly  as  brittle. 

"Whose  child  is  this?"  she  demanded 
of  a  near  and  large  chauffeur.    It  was 
not  the  lady's  fault  that  much  philan- 
thropic activity  had  so  formed  her  man- 
247 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

ner  that  these  simple  words,  as  she  said 
them,  seemed  to  infer  that  the  large 
green-clad  chauffeur  was  a  Rousseau 
among  parents,  that  the  child  was  his, 
starved  that  he  might  grow  fat,  and  aban- 
doned that  he  might  go  free.  His  reply 
was  all  that  her  manner  demanded.  And 
when  she  repeated  the  question  to  other 
waiting  men,  she  was  hardly  answered 
at  all. 

Meanwhile  the  youngest  Rashnowsky 
banged  its  hairless  head  upon  the  cold 
stone,  and  reiterated  its  demands  for  its 
guardian  sister.  Mrs.  Ponsonby-Brown 
was  puzzled,  and  she  did  not  enjoy  the 
sensation.  She  picked  up  the  child  be- 
fore she  had  planned  any  further  step  for 
its  disposition.  She  could  not  well  drop 
it  on  the  stone  again,  and  there  was  no 
one  to  whom  she  could  give  it.  Realizing 
with  a  sudden  sense  of  outrage  that  she  was 
affording  amusement  to  the  well-trained 
248 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

servants  of  her  Cornelia  associates,  she 
retreated  into  the  building  and  into  the 
hall  with  the  screaming  Gracchus  in  her 
arms. 

Her  advent  and  the  clamor  of  her  bur- 
den interrupted  the  reading  of  a  paper 
upon  "Nursery  Emergencies,  and  How 
to  Meet  Them,"  by  a  young  lady  who 
had  exhausted  the  family  physician,  and 
such  books  as  he  could  be  persuaded  to 
lend  her.  Her  remarks,  though  interest- 
ing and  authoritative,  could  not  prevail 
against  the  howling  presence  of  a  real 
nursery  emergency,  and  the  attention  of 
the  audience  stampeded  to  Mrs.  Pon- 
sonby-Brown  and  her  contribution  to  the 
meeting.  That  practised  and  disgusted 
philanthropist  relinquished  the  youngest 
Rashnowsky  to  the  first  pair  of  pitying 
arms  extended  in  its  direction.  But  pity 
was  not  what  the  sufferer  craved,  and  she 
repudiated  it  eloquently. 

249 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"What  shall  I  do  with  it?"  cried  this 
young  Cornelia,  looking  helplessly  around 
upon  her  fellows.  "Whenever  my  Jim- 
inie  behaved  like  this  I  used  simply  to 
ring  for  Louise.  I  never  knew  what  she 
used  to  do  with  him." 

Mrs.  Ponsonby-Brown  snorted.  "A 
nurse!"  said  she,  "a  hireling!  You  rele- 
gate a  mother's  sacred  responsibilities  to 
a  servant."  Mrs.  Ponsonby-Brown  had 
never  enjoyed  these  responsibilities,  and 
so  was  eloquent  and  authoritative  upon 
them. 

Other  Cornelias  fluttered  about  sug- 
gesting that  the  Gracchus  was  suffering 
from  hunger,  colic,  or  misdirected  pins. 
The  expert  upon  emergencies  snatched 
this  one  from  its  embarrassed  guardian, 
inverted  it  across  her  knee,  and  patted  it 
manfully  upon  the  back.  The  dirtiness 
of  it,  the  thinness,  the  squalled  wrappings, 
and  the  blue  little  hands  and  feet  touched 
250 


THE  ETIQUETTE   OF  YETTA 


and  quickened  the  Cornelias  as  no  lecture 
could  have  done,  and  the  resourceful 
vice-president  found  cause  to  congratu- 
late herself  on  the  milieu  of  the  meeting. 

"If  we  knew,"  said  a  bespectacled 
Cornelia  sensibly  and  practically,  "what 
food  they  were  giving  it,  we  could  easily 
send  out  and  get  a  meal  for  it." 

"It  hardly  looks,"  interrupted  another, 
"like  the  Mellin's  Food  and  Nestles  Milk 
Babies  one  sees  in  the  advertisements." 

"And  yet,"  said  the  practical  member, 
"we  can't  do  anything  until  wTe  know 
what  it's  accustomed  to.  With  so  young 
a  child  " 

Here  the  door  opened  and  an  unen- 
rolled  Cornelia  was  added  to  the  gather- 
ing. Her  red  and  yellow  kimona  rose 
and  fell  with  her  quick  breathing.  De- 
fiance shone  in  her  black  eyes. 

"You  got  mine  baby,"  declared  Rosie 
Rashnowsky.  "Why  couldn't  you  leave 
251 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


her  be  where  I  put  her,  you  old  Miss 
Fix-its  ?  You  scared  me  most  to  death 
until  I  heard  her  yellin'." 

With  these  ungrateful  remarks  she  ad- 
vanced upon  the  ministering  group  and 
snatched  the  inverted  infant  from  the 
colic  theorist. 

6 6 This  is  the  top  of  her,"  she  pointed 
out.    "I  guess  you  didn't  look  very  hard." 

Before  the  discredited  practitioner  had 
formed  a  reply  the  Cornelia  in  spec- 
tacles was  ready  to  remark: 

4 'We  think  your  baby  is  hungry." 

"Sure  is  she,"  Rosie  concurred;  "ain't 
babies  always  hungry?" 

"And  if  you  will  tell  us  what  you  feed 
her  on,"  the  lady  continued,  "we  will 
send  out  for  some  of  it  before  you  take 
her  home." 

Rosie  was  by  this  time  established  in 
a  chair  with  the  now  only  whimpering 
baby  upon  her  lap. 

252 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

"Don't  you  bother,"  she  genially  re- 
monstrated. "I  just  bought  her  some- 
thing." 

And  then  with  many  contortions  she 
produced  from  some  inner  recess  of  her 
kimona  a  large  dill  pickle,  imperfectly 
wrapped  in  moist  newspaper.  She  dis- 
severed a  section  of  this  with  her  own 
sharp  teeth,  and  put  it  into  the  ba- 
by's waiting  mouth.  The  cries  of  the 
youngest  Rashnowsky  were  supplanted 
by  a  chorus  of  remonstrating  Cornelias. 
"Pickles!"  they  cried,  and  shuddered. 
"Do  you  often  give  that  baby  pickles?" 

"I  do  when  I  can  get  'em,"  Rosie  an- 
swered, "but  that  ain't  often." 

And  then  this  injudicious  but  warm- 
hearted audience  drew  from  her  the  sor- 
did little  story  which  seemed  such  a 
matter  of  course  to  her,  and  such  a 
tragedy  to  them. 

"Und  I  looks,"  said  Rosie,  "all  times 
253 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

I  looks  on  cellars  und  push-carts  und 
fire  'scapes  und  stores  und  sidewalks. 
Und  I  walks  und  I  walks — all  times  I 
walks — mit  that  baby  in  mine  hand,  und 
I  couldn't  to  find  me  the  papa.  Mine 
poor  mamma,  she  looks  too,  sooner  she 
goes  und  comes  on  the  factory,  und  by 
night  me  und  mine  mamma,  we  comes 
by  our  house  und  we  looks  on  ourselves 
und  we  don't  says  nothings,  on'y  makes 
so" — and  Rosie  shook  a  hopeless  head — 
"und  so  we  knows  we  ain't  find  him. 
Sometimes  mine  mamma  cries  over  it. 
She  is  got  all  times  awful  sad  looks." 

By  this  time  the  more  sentimental 
among  the  Cornelias  were  reduced  to 
tears,  and  the  more  practical  were  sur- 
veying such  finances  as  they  carried  with 
them,  and  in  a  very  short  time  an  en- 
dowment fund  of  nearly  fifty  dollars  had 
been  collected.  The  sang-froid  which  had 
throughout  the  proceedings  distinguished 
254 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

Rosie  was  a  little  shaken  when  this  ex- 
traordinary shower  of  manna  was  made 
clear  to  her,  but  it  vanished  altogether 
when,  upon  the  suggestion  of  the  prac- 
tical and  bespectacled  Cornelia,  the  as- 
sistant janitor  was  sent  for  to  give  safe- 
conduct  to  the  children  and  their  bequest. 
And  the  amazement  of  Isidore  Rashnow- 
sky — summoned  from  the  furnace  room 
for  some  uncomprehended  reason — was 
hardly  less  ecstatic  when  he  found  himself 
in  the  close  embrace  of  his  frenzied 
daughter.  For  Rosie's  joy  was  nothing 
less  than  frenzy. 

"It's  mine  papa !  Oh,  it's  mine  papa ! " 
she  informed  the  now  jubilant  and  sym- 
pathetic Cornelias,  who  were  quite  ready 
to  pass  a  vote  of  thanks  to  their  pioneer- 
ing vice-president,  whose  plan  had  af- 
forded them  more  emotion  and  more 
true  human  sensation  than  they  had  ex- 
perienced for  many  a  day. 

255 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Isidore  floated  toward  Clinton  Street 
through  clouds  and  seas  of  gold.  The 
endowment  together  with  his  own  first 
week's  wages  made  a  larger  sum  than  he 
had  ever  hoped  to  gather.  He  wafted 
the  baby  through  this  golden  atmosphere, 
the  baby  wTafted  a  second  section  of  dill 
pickle,  and  Rosie,  in  her  red  and  golden 
draperies  gyrated  around  them. 

"You  shall  go  on  the  factory  right 
away,"  babbled  Isidore,  "und  bring  the 
mamma  on  the  house.  She  shall  never 
no  more  work  on  no  factories.  She  shall 
stay  on  the  house  und  take  care  of  the 
baby  und  be  Jewish  ladies." 

"She  don't  needs  she  shall  take  care 
of  no  baby,"  Rosie,  thus  lightly  deposed, 
remonstrated;  "ain't  I  takin'  care  of  her 
all  right?" 

"Sure,   sure,"   the  placating  Isidore 
made  answer;  "on'y  you  won't  have  no 
time.    You  shall  go  on  the  school." 
256 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

This  last  sinister  word  broke  through 
all  Rosie's  golden  dreams.  "School?" 
she  repeated  in  dismay.  "Me  on  the 
school?" 

"For  learn,"  Isidore  happily  acqui- 
esced, "all  them  things  what  makes 
American  ladies." 

Rosie's  sentiments  almost  detached  her 
from  the  triumphal  procession,  so  rebel- 
lious were  they,  so  helpless,  so  baffled  and 
outraged.  And  in  that  moment  of  brain- 
storm they  turned  into  Grand  Street,  and 
came  upon  a  piano  organ,  and  Yetta  Aar- 
onsohn,  the  erstwhile  censorious  Yetta, 
in  the  enjoyment  of  a  complicated  pas- 
seul. 

"For  von  things,"  Isidore  ambled  on, 
"American  ladies  they  don't  never  dance 
by  streets  on  organs.  You  shall  that  on 
the  school  learn,  und  the  reading,  und 
the  writing,  und  all  things  what  is  fer 
ladies.  Monday  you  shall  go  on  the 
257 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


school.  Your  mamma  shall  go  by  your 
side.  She  won't,"  he  broke  out  ecstati- 
cally, "have  nothings  else  to  do.  You 
shall  go  now  on  the  factory  for  tell  her." 

Rosie  paused  but  an  instant  on  this 
mission  of  joy.  She  overtook  Yetta  Aar- 
onsohn  homeward  bound. 

"I  guess,"  said  Rosie  with  fashionable 
langour,  "I  guess  maybe  I  goes  on  the 
school  Monday." 

Yetta  stared,  then  smiled.  "Ain't  I 
told  you  from  long,"  said  she,  "that  that 
Truant  Officer  could  to  make  like  that 
mit  you  ?" 

"I  ain't  never  seen  no  Truant  Officer," 
retorted  Rosie.  "In  all  my  world  I  ain't 
never  seen  one.  I  don't  know  what  are 
they  even.  On'y  I  finds  me  the  papa  mit 
bunches  from  money,  und  a  hall,  und 
he  says  I  shall  go  on  the  school  so  some- 
body can  learn  me  all  things  what  Ameri- 
can ladies  makes." 

258 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  YETTA 

"Come  on  my  school,"  entreated  Yetta. 
"You  und  me  could  to  set  beside  our- 
selves." 

Rosie  pondered.  She  counted  her  four 
hair  ribbons.  She  wrapped  her  kimona 
toga  wise  about  her  and  pondered. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  finally  answered, 
"do  I  needs  I  shall  set  by  side  somebody 
what  dances  on  streets  mit  organs,"  and 
added,  as  Yetta's  expression  seemed  to 
hint  at  instant  parting: 

"Well,  good  afternoon,  I  must  be 
going." 

Her  evolution  into  "American  Ladies" 
had  already  begun.  The  manners  of  the 
Cornelias  had  not  been  lost  upon  her. 


259 


A  BENT  TWIG 


A  BENT  TWIG 


IN  season  and  out  of  season  Constance 
Bailey,  that  earnest  young  educator, 
preached  of  the  value  of  honesty.  And 
fifty  little  children  of  Israel  who  formed 
the  First  Reader  class,  and  the  one  little 
son  of  Erin  who  led  it,  hearkened  to  her: 
always  with  politeness,  and  sometimes 
with  surprise. 

To  some  of  the  boys  it  seemed  incredi- 
ble that  a  person  of  mature  years,  and 
— upon  other  subjects — common  sense, 
should  cling  to  a  theory  which  the  most 
simple  experiment  must  prove  both  mis- 
chievous and  false.  Had  not  Abraham 
Wishnewsky,  a  spineless  person,  misled 
by  her  heresies,  but  narrowly  escaped  the 
Children's  Court  and  the  Reformatory? 
263 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Strolling  through  Gouverneur  Street 
upon  a  Friday  afternoon  when  the  whole 
East  Side  is  in  a  panic  of  shopping,  he 
had  seen  a  bewigged  and  beshawled  ma- 
tron shed  a  purse  and  pass  on  her  way 
unheeding.  Promptly  Abraham  set  his 
foot  upon  it,  carefully  and  casually  he 
picked  it  up,  and  then,  all  inconveniently, 
he  remembered  Miss  Bailey  and  her  ad- 
monitions! Miss  Bailey  and  her  anec- 
dotes of  boys  who,  in  circumstances 
identical  with  his,  had  chosen  the  path  of 
honor,  and  had  found  it  to  lead  to  riches, 
approbation,  glory,  and  self-righteousness. 

Abraham  opened  the  purse.  It  con- 
tained fifteen  cents.  He  appropriated 
the  nickel  as  a  first  instalment  of  the  re- 
ward so  soon  to  be  his,  and  then  sped 
fleetly — as  Miss  Bailey's  heroes  had  ever 
done — after  the  brown-shawled  matron 
and  glory.  But  the  matron  had  evidently 
not  been  trained  in  the  school  of  high 
264 


A  BENT  TWIG 

honor.  She  regarded  Abraham  with  sus- 
picion rather  than  with  gratitude.  She 
examined  the  purse  in  the  same  spirit,  and 
her  investigations  led  to  loud  outcries 
upon  her  part,  and  to  swift  flight  upon 
Abraham's. 

Abraham  Wishnewsky  was  so  ill-ad- 
vised as  to  confide  the  details  of  this 
adventure  to  a  young  gentleman  who  re- 
joiced in  a  rabbit  face,  close-set  lashless 
eyes,  and  the  name  of  Isidore  Cohen. 
Isidore  was  new  to  Room  18,  and  new  to 
his  place  beside  the  gentle  Abraham. 
Miss  Bailey  and  her  applied  ethics  were 
startlingly  new  to  him.  And  he  never 
reported  to  Abraham  any  effort  to  ex- 
periment in  revolutionary  doctrines. 

Some  of  the  more  credulous  among  the 
feminine  First  Readers  also  weighed  these 
precepts  in  the  balance  and  found  them 
wanting. 

"You  know  how  Teacher  says,"  Sarah 
265 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


Schodsky  remarked  to  Bertha  Binderwitz, 
as  the  two  friends,  arms  intertwined, 
heads  close  together,  walked  and  talked 
in  the  yard  at  the  recess  hour.  "You 
know  how  she  says  we  dasen't  never  to 
tell  no  lies." 

Bertha  nodded.  "That's  how  she 
says'9  she  agreed. 

"Well,"  resumed  Sarah,  "you  see  how 
Mamie  Untermeyer  don't  comes  no  more 
on  the  school  ?" 

Bertha  had  remarked  this  absence. 

"Well,  Mamie  she  lives  by  her  auntie. 
She  is  got  a  awful  auntie.  Und  she  asks 
her  auntie  for  a  penny  for  buy  hokey 
pokey.  Und  her  auntie  makes  a  mean 
laugh  und  says,  'What  you  think  I  am, 
anyway?'  und  Mamie,  she  tells  it  right 
out  what  she  thinks  over  her  auntie,  like 
Teacher  says,  'We  shall  all  times  tell 
what  we  thinks.'  She  lays  on  the  bed 
now  mit  bangages  on  the  head.  It  ain't 
266 


A  BENT  TWIG 

so  awful  healthy  you  shall  tell  truths  on 
aunties." 

This  report  also  reached  the  rabbit  ears 
of  Isidore  Cohen.  And  again  he  won- 
dered that  Miss  Bailey  should  waste  her 
time — and  his — in  folly. 

And  then  he  made  an  amazing  discov- 
ery. Teacher  actually  believed  what  she 
taught.  She  was  ready  to  meet  confidence 
with  trust,  and  to  practise  what  she 
preached. 

"I  never  seen  nothing  like  it,"  he  re- 
ported to  his  friend,  Hymie  Solomon. 
"  She  looks  like  she  knew  a  awful  lot,  but 
she  don't  know  nothings  'tall." 

"What  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter 
with  her?"  demanded  Hymie.  "Miss 
Blake,  she  don't  act  crazy.  She  don't 
give  us  no  talk  'out  no  sense." 

Now  Hymie  and  Isidore  were  old 
friends  and  cronies.  In  the  days  before 
a  Truant  Officer  and  their  distracted 
267 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


fathers  had  consigned  them  to  school, 
Hymie  and  he  had  trod  the  ways  which 
might  have  led  them  to  the  Children's 
Court  and  the  Reformatory;  but  the 
Board  of  Education  chanced  to  be  the 
first  power  that  laid  hands  upon  them, 
and  Hymie,  who  was  a  year  older  than 
his  friend,  and  who  had  once  undergone 
some  intermittent  education,  was  put  in 
Miss  Blake's  class,  while  Isidore,  virgin 
soil  where  prescribed  learning  was  con- 
cerned, joined  the  First  Readers.  Miss 
Bailey's  teachings  as  reported  by  Isidore 
formed  amazing  subjects  for  conversation. 

"Und  she  says,"  he  would  report, 
"that  nobody  dasn't  to  steal  nothings  off 
of  somebody." 

"Then  how  does  she  think  we  shall 
ever  get  anything  ?" 

"Somebody  shall  give  it  to  us." 

"Who?" 

"Teacher  ain't  said." 

268 


A  BENT  TWIG 


"No,  I  guess  she  ain't.  I'd  like  to  see 
her  gettin'  along  on  just  what  was  give  to 
her." 

"Well,"  Isidore  remembered,  "she  says 
we  shall  '  work-un-strive.'" 

"She  does,  does  she?  An'  git  pinched 
by  the  Gerry  Society  ?  She  knows  as 
good  as  you  do  that  nobody  would  let  you 
work.  An'  she  knows  as  good  as  you  do, 
too,  that  craps  ain't  safe  round  here  no 
more;  an'  that  you  just  can't  git  nothin' 
unless  you  take  it.  She's  actin'  crazy 
just  to  fool  you." 

"No,  she  ain't,"  Isidore  maintained; 
"she  don't  know  nothings  over  them 
things." 

"An'  her  grown  up,"  sneered  Hymie; 
"say,  but  you're  easy!" 

This  faith  in  and  affection  for  Miss  Bai- 
ley were  not  confined  to  the  little  First 
Readers  who  inhabited  Room  18  from 
nine  until  twelve,  and  again  from  one 
269 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

until  three.  These  were  Miss  Bailey's 
official  responsibilities,  but  Gertie  Armu- 
sheffsky's  education  was  a  private  affair, 
though  her  devotion  was  no  less  whole- 
hearted. Her  instruction  was  carried  on 
sometimes  amid  the  canaries  and  fern 
baskets  of  Room  18,  and  sometimes  at 
Miss  Bailey's  home. 

For  Gertie,  though  nearly  fifteen  years 
old,  was  allowed  but  rare  and  scanty  free- 
dom for  the  pursuit  of  learning.  The 
grandfather  with  whom  she  lived  had 
imported  her  from  Poland  to  assist  him 
in  the  conduct  of  his  little  shop  in  Goerck 
Street. 

He  was  a  miserly  old  man.  The  shop 
was  little  and  mean,  and  Gertie's  life  in 
it  was  little  and  miserly  and  mean.  These 
things  she  bore  with  the  wonderful  pa- 
tience or  stoicism  of  her  race.  She  bore, 
too,  bad  air,  long  hours,  and  uncongenial 
toil,  but  she  could  not  bring  any  resigna- 
270 


A  BENT  TWIG 


tion  to  bear  on  the  lovelessness  of  her  life, 
the  squalor,  the  ugliness. 

"I  ain't  puttin'  up  no  kick,"  she  would 
assure  Miss  Bailey,  in  her  newly  acquired 
and  strictly  modern  vernacular,  * '  about 
doin'  all  the  woik  in  the  store,  an'  in  the 
back  room  too.  Didn't  I  know  I  was 
comin'  over  to  cook  an'  sew  an'  see  to 
everything  for  him  ?  What  gits  on  my 
noives  is  his  everlasting  grouch." 

"It  must  be  hard,"  Miss  Bailey  acqui- 
esced, "especially  as  you  have  no  one 
else,  no  friends." 

Gertie  shook  her  head.  "Ain't  got  a 
friend  in  the  world  only  you,"  said  she. 
"How  could  I  have  any  one  come  to  see 
me  with  him  carryin'  on  like  he  does  ? 
An'  I  can't  get  away  from  him.  He  paid 
my  way  over,  an'  if  I  did  git  a  job  the 
Gerry  Society  would  give  me  back  to 
him." 

"But  you're  nearly  old  enough  now," 
271 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Miss  Bailey  encouraged  her,  "to  do  as 
you  please,  and  you're  getting  on  so 
nicely  with  your  reading  and  writing  that 
you  will  be  able  to  get  a  very  good  posi- 
tion." 

"Not  'til  he's  dead,"  the  girl  answered. 
"I  guess  you  wouldn't  learn  me  no  more 
if  you  knew  how  often  I  wish  he'd  choke 
himself,  or  fall  down  cellar,  or  go  out  an' 
git  run  over.  But  he  don't  never  go  out. 
He  says  he's  afraid  something  would 
happen  to  the  store.  But  that's  a  pipe! 
What  bothers  him  is  the  cash  he's  got 
tucked  around  in  crazy  places.  Every 
once  in  a  while  I  fall  into  some  of  it,  and 
then  he  'most  has  a  fit  explaining  how  it's 
change  a  customer  is  comin'  back  for. 
Last  year  it  wasn't  quite  so  bad.  He  went 
to  night  school  one  term.  You  would 
have  died  laughing  to  see  him  all  folded 
up  at  a  kid's  desk  tryin'  to  write  in  a  copy 
book.  They  learned  him  to  write  three 
272 


A  BENT  TWIG 


words  that  term,  but  when  he  found  out 
that  he  couldn't  read  them  in  print,  it 
sort  of  discouraged  him,  and  he  stayed 
home." 

"It's  awfully  hard  for  you,"  Miss 
Bailey  repeated,  "but  you  mustn't  let 
yourself  say  such  things  or  think  such 
things — about  his  getting  killed,  I  mean — 
it's  not" — she  found  herself  on  the  verge  of 
saying  "Christian,"  but  remembered  that 
Gertie  made  no  pretence  to  the  Christian 
virtues — "not  loving,"  she  ended,  and 
felt  that  the  meaning  of  the  two  words 
was  very  much  the  same. 

"Well,  I  don't  love  him,"  said  Gertie 
shortly,  "I  hate  him!" 

"That's  another  thing  you  mustn't  say." 

"All  right,  I  won't  say  it.  I  do  it  all 
the  time." 

"What's  the  capital  of  Massachusetts  ?" 
demanded  Miss  Bailey,  changing  the  sub- 
ject with  a  jerk. 

273 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


"It's  Grandpa's  capital  that's  bother- 
ing me,"  laughed  Gertie,  but  she  allowed 
herself  to  be  led  away  from  the  trials  and 
problems  of  Goerck  Street  into  the  cool 
groves  of  learning. 

A  few  mornings  later  Miss  Blake, 
whose  kingdom,  Room  17,  bordered  upon 
Miss  Bailey's  territory,  bustled  into  Room 
18  with  a  fat  and  elaborate  purse  in  her 
hand. 

"You  know  that  wicked  little  Hymie 
Abrahams  who  seems  to  be  always  getting 
into  trouble,"  she  began,  when  the  First 
Readers  had  stiffened  to  straight  "atten- 
tion" and  sat,  each  in  his  little  place,  like 
some  extraordinary  form  of  tin  soldiers. 

Miss  Bailey  nodded.  She  had  indeed 
for  many  days  been  haunted  by  the  fear 
that  Hymie  Abrahams  wTould  perpetrate 
some  too  flagrant  breach  of  discipline, 
and  be  degraded  to  the  First  Reader 
274 


A  BENT  TWIG 


class,  and  she  naturally  dreaded  the 
advent  of  such  a  wolf  among  her  little 
lambs. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Blake,  "he  can't  be 
all  bad.  I  guess  he  has  some  human 
feelings.  He  brought  me  this  bag  this 
morning.  Says  his  mother  doesn't  need 
it  any  more,  and  wants  me  to  have  it. 
It's  almost  new,  you  see,  and  really  very 
handsome.  Just  let  me  show  you  the 
fittings.  I  guess  his  mother  wouldn't 
find  much  use  for  powder  puffs  and  mir- 
rors and  smelling-salts.  Not  if  I  know 
anything  about  the  women  of  the  East 
Side,  she  wouldn't." 

She  spread  the  glittering  useless  things 
upon  Miss  Bailey's  desk,  and  the  force 
with  which  this  bribe  carried  away  her 
earlier  dislike  showed  that  Hymie  Solomon 
had  mastered  the  art  of  character  reading. 
And  Miss  Bailey,  as  she  reviewed  the 
dainty  paraphernalia  spread  before  her, 
275 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

found  herself  wondering  how  soon  Ma- 
dame Solomon  would  miss  her  treasures 
and  come  storming  in  pursuit  of  them. 
And  beside  Miss  Bailey's  desk  sat  Isidore 
Cohen  in  an  agony  of  doubt  and  disillu- 
sionment. His  one  childish  attribute  was 
that  of  believing  that  all  he  knew  must  be 
common  knowledge.  Therefore  he  argued 
that  the  powers  before  him  knew  as  well 
as  he  did  that  Hymie  Solomon  was 
motherless,  and  that  Miss  Blake  would  be 
most  unwise  to  look  her  gift  purse  in  the 
pedigree.  And  so,  as  Miss  Blake  ex- 
hibited and  Miss  Bailey  admired,  the 
work  of  weeks  was  undone.  One  teacher 
was  acting  as  a  "fence,"  and  another  was 
cheering  and  encouraging  her.  He  had 
doubted  this  "honesty  the  best  policy" 
propaganda  from  the  first.  But  he  had 
believed  in  the  sincerity  of  its  prophet. 

Yet  he  might  have  been  prepared. 
Had  not  his  father,  wise  and  experienced 
276 


A  BENT  TWIG 

in  the  ways  of  the  world,  armed  him  with 
the  formula :  4  6  Krists  is  fakes  "  ?  His  own 
adventures  had  corroborated  this,  and 
Miss  Bailey  from  the  very  first  had  made 
no  attempt  to  conceal  her  connection  with 
that  despised  sect.  Of  course  she  was  a 
fake.  No  more  than  half  an  hour  ago 
she  had  thrilled  her  audience  with  mis- 
information, and  manufactured  biography 
all  going  to  prove  the  nobleness — even 
the  expediency — of  honesty ;  and  now  she 
was  purring  delightedly  over  the  fruits  of 
Hymie's  sleight-of-hand. 

Isidore's  was  not  a  sentimental  nature. 
Idealism  was  not  his  forte.  And  yet  he 
could  not  help  wishing  that,  if  only  for  the 
confusion  of  Hymie  and  his  father,  Miss 
Bailey  had  proved  to  be  "on  the  level." 

Mr.  Cohen  pere  believed  in  nothing 
but  the  rights  of  man,  though  his  opinion 
of  man  was  so  low  as  to  preclude  his 
having  any  rights  at  all.  He  was  espe- 
277 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

cially  opprobrious  toward  all  those  in 
authority,  and  he  made  no  exception  in 
the  case  of  his  son's  teacher.  "She  be- 
longs to  the  machine,"  he  would  assever- 
ate with  warmth.  "Run  by  the  machine, 
paid  by  the  machine,  a  part  of  the  ma- 
chine. Policemen,  firemen,  teachers,  in- 
spectors, they  are  all  the  same.  All  parts 
of  the  big  machine.  And  what  is  it 
chewing?  Us.  What  does  it  live  on? 
Us  again.  Don't  you  try  to  fool  me  about 
that  teacher  of  yours." 

Isidore  had  been  making  no  such  at- 
tempt, and  he  repudiated  the  idea  with 
scorn.  He  was  accustomed  to  vehement 
paternal  outbreaks,  for  Mr.  Cohen  was  a 
popular  orator  in  his  social  club,  and  he 
often  rehearsed  his  eloquence  in  the  home 
circle.  Not  often,  however,  did  Isidore 
understand  or  remember  the  fervid  pe- 
riods. This  attack  upon  Miss  Bailey 
he  did  remember,  though  he  did  not 
278 


A  BENT  TWIG 

understand.  To  him  a  machine  was  a 
sewing-machine,  and  his  father,  though 
he  evidently  meant  something,  could  not 
have  meant  to  associate  her  with  that 
most  useful  member  of  the  family. 

"Just  like  all  the  rest  of  them,"  his 
father  had  said.  "A  grafter,"  and  now 
that  Miss  Blake  had  fallen  from  honesty, 
what  proof  was  there  that  Miss  Bailey 
was  not  equally  approachable  ? 

And  certainly  Miss  Blake  played  the 
game  with  the  promptness  and  surety  of 
an  old  understanding.  Influence  or  in- 
come are  the  counters  in  the  game,  and 
she  dealt  both  cheerily.  Three  days 
after  the  presentation  of  the  purse  the 
post  of  Monitor  of  Supplies  in  Room  17 
fell  vacant,  and  Hymie  Solomon  received 
it.  That  was  the  influence,  he  was 
"holding  down  a  job."  Two  days  later 
he  discovered  a  market  for  surplus  text- 
books and  other  school  supplies.  Thus 
279 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


was  the  income  assured.  No  one  could 
doubt  Miss  Blake  was  familiar  with  the 
rules. 

"You'd  never  believe,"  said  she  to  her 
neighbor  in  fond  and  unfounded  pride, 
"what  a  little  responsibility  will  do  for  an 
almost  incorrigible  boy.  You  wouldn't 
know  Hymie.  He  stays  behind  almost 
every  afternoon  when  I  go  home,  getting 
things  straightened  out." 

"They  all  have  their  good  points,"  said 
Constance  Bailey.  "I  am  thinking  of 
doing  something  of  the  same  kind  about 
Isidore  Cohen.  We  must  hold  their 
interest,  you  know." 

It  was  about  a  week  later.  Miss 
Bailey  and  her  monitors  were  putting 
Room  18  to  rights  after  the  stress  and 
storm  of  the  day.  Gold-fish,  window- 
boxes,  canaries,  and  pencil  points  were  all 
being  ministered  to  by  their  respective 
supervisors,  and  the  door  opened  and 
280 


A  BENT  TWIG 

Gertie  Armusheffsky  appeared.  Such 
a  distracted,  tear-stained,  white-lipped 
Gertie  that  Miss  Bailey  swept  her  moni- 
tors into  their  weird  wrappings  and  dis- 
missed them  with  all  speed. 

"I  can't  go  home,"  cried  Gertie  in 
desperation.  "  Honest,  Miss  Bailey,  he'd 
kill  me  if  I  did." 

And  after  listening  to  the  girl's  story, 
Miss  Bailey  congratulated  herself  that  she 
had  no  other  charges  old  enough  to  be 
caught  in  trouble  as  difficult. 

Old  Mr.  Armusheffsky  had  read  of  a 
fire  in  a  Brooklyn  glove  factory:  hun- 
dreds of  pairs  of  damaged  gloves  were 
spoken  of.  Now  Mr.  Armusheffsky  kept 
his  store  very  dark,  and  only  the  most 
fatal  damages  could  be  detected  in  its 
dim  light.  Catastrophes  such  as  this  of 
the  glove  factory  were  his  opportunities. 
He  always — he  never  left  the  store — sent 
Gertie  to  negotiate  with  the  bereaved 
281 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

manufacturers,  the  insurance  agents,  or 
whoever  chanced  to  be  in  authority  over 
the  debris.  Upon  this  day  there  chanced 
to  be  no  debris:  the  fire  and  the  firemen 
had  done  their  work.  There  was  no  one 
even  to  interviewT.  And  Gertie,  some- 
what apprehensive  as  to  her  grandfather's 
displeasure  and  disappointment,  set  out 
for  home.  She  enlivened  her  homeward 
way  by  a  visit  to  a  big  department  store, 
where  she  envied  the  be-pompadoured 
damsels  behind  the  counters;  plunged 
into  the  squirming  crowd  around  a  bar- 
gain table  and  secured  a  jabot  of  real 
German  Mechlin  lace  for  thirteen  cents. 
After  this  transaction  she  had  in  her  purse 
the  twelve  cents  left  of  her  quarter  dollar, 
and  the  jabot,  the  check  showing  its  cost 
and  the  date,  an  unused  trolley  transfer, 
and  the  five  dollars  deposit  which  she  was 
to  have  paid  on  the  purchase  of  gloves. 
The  purse  was  of  the  hand-bag  variety, 
282 


A  BENT  TWIG 


showy  yet  strong.  It  had  been  given  to 
her  as  a  reward  and  an  encouragement 
by  Miss  Bailey. 

"An'  when  I  got  off  the  car  at  the 
'loop',"  she  ended,  "an'  changed  into  the 
Second  Avenue  cable,  somebody  in  the 
crowd  swiped  me  bag.  I  didn't  have 
even  a  transfer  left,  an'  I  had  to  walk 
here.  I  was  pushing  along  in  the  crowd 
lookin'  at  the  signs  '  Beware  of  pickpock- 
ets', an'  thinkin'  it  was  good  I  had  no 
pockets  to  pick,  when  it  come  over  me 
that  my  bag  was  gone.  Just  that  easy! 
Me  what  ought  to  have  known  better. 
Say,  you  know  it  would  be  just  as  good 
as  suicide  to  go  an'  give  that  'pipe'  to 
Grandpa.  So  I  was  thinking  maybe 
you'd  go  round  and  sort  of  break  the  news. 
He's  got  a  lot  of  respect  for  you.  An' 
honest,  I  ain't  kiddin'.  He'd  kill  me  for 
that  five  dollars."  Then  with  sudden  fury 
she  ended,  "I'd  kill  him  for  five  cents." 
283 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

Miss  Bailey  had  never  responded  with 
less  alacrity  to  a  cry  for  help.  She  had  a 
genuine  horror  of  the  fierce,  sore-eyed 
old  vulture,  with  whom  she  had  had  to 
struggle  so  determinedly  for  the  privilege 
of  teaching  Gertie.  "  Of  course,''  she 
said  at  last,  "he  will  have  to  know — " 
But  Miss  Bailey  was  wrong,  Mr.  Armu- 
sheffsky  never  knew. 

Room  18's  door  opened  again  to  admit 
two  policemen,  one  plain-clothes  man, 
who  silently  showed  his  badge  to  Miss 
Bailey,  and  three  garrulous  and  dishev- 
elled neighbors  of  the  Armusheffsky 
menage. 

At  sight  of  Gertie  the  neighbors  grew 
vociferous,  triumphant.  The  policemen 
stationed  themselves  one  on  either  side 
of  Gertie,  and  the  plain-clothes  man  ex- 
plained to  Miss  Bailey  that  old  Armu- 
sheffsky had  been  found  murdered  in  his 
store,  and  that  every  man  and  woman  for 
284 


A  BENT  TWIG 


blocks  around  was  as  ready  as  these  in- 
coherent samples  to  testify  that  his  grand- 
daughter had  often  wished  him  dead,  and 
had  sometimes  threatened  to  kill  him. 

"So  I  guess,"  he  ended  pleasantly, 
"that  cThe  Tombs'  will  be  this  young 
lady's  address  for  a  spell." 

"But  I've  been  in  Brooklyn  all  day," 
protested  Gertie  when  at  last  she  found 
speech. 

"Can  you  prove  it?  Talked  to  any- 
body?   Got  any  witnesses?" 

Gertie  recapitulated  her  story. 

"Got  the  goods  you  bought?  Got  the 
check  on  them  ?" 

Gertie  explained  the  loss  of  the  purse. 

The  plain-clothes  man  shook  his  head. 
"I'm  sorry,  Miss,"  said  he  to  Miss  Bailey, 
"but  I  guess  it's  a  case  for  the  sergeant. 
Of  course  if  that  hand  satchel  turns  up 
it  will  be  all  right,  but  the  case  looks  bad 
to  me.  She  ain't  the  first  what  took  the 
285 


LITTLE  ALIENS 

quickest  way  out  of  things  she  couldn't 
stand.  I  don't  blame  them  myself,  but 
that's  the  jury's  business.  Mine  is  to 
take  the  girl  along  with  me.  Your  think- 
ing so  much  of  her  will  go  a  good  ways  to 
help  her  out.  The  patrol  wagon  is  at  the 
door.    We'll  just  be  moseying  along." 

Gertie  went  with  him  without  a  word. 
Her  escape  from  her  grandfather's  vitu- 
perations seemed  to  make  her  oblivious  to 
everything  else.  Miss  Bailey,  however, 
was  comforted  by  no  such  blindness. 
She  realized  that  tragedy,  perhaps  death, 
had  come  to  Room  18,  and  she  set  about 
averting  them  with  characteristic  energy. 

The  one  frail  thread  upon  which 
Gertie's  life  hung  led  to  one  or  two  pawn 
shops  whence  purses,  not  hers,  were  re- 
ported. Then  it  snapped,  and  a  whole 
mountain  of  circumstantial  evidence  was 
piled  up  in  readiness  to  drop  on  her  de- 
fenceless head  when  the  days  of  the  trial 
286 


A  BENT  TWIG 

should  come.  Constance  Bailey  had 
never  been  so  close  to  tragedy  before, 
and  she  bore  the  juxtaposition  very  badly. 
She  persisted  in,  and  insisted  upon  effort, 
after  the  police  and  the  reporters  had 
done  their  best  and  worst.  But  always 
she  was  met,  though  never  quite  daunted, 
by  the  challenge  to  produce  the  purse 
with  the  proofs  of  alibi. 

Under  these  conditions  it  naturally  oc- 
curred that  the  little  First  Readers  re- 
ceived but  a  very  divided  attention. 
Affairs  of  state  in  Room  18  were  left 
largely  to  the  board  of  monitors,  and  more 
than  ever  did  it  seem  desirable  to  Isidore 
Cohen  to  secure  a  portfolio  within  that 
cabinet.  For  more  than  a  week  he  had 
been  ready  to  present  his  application. 
The  proof  of  his  fitness  for  office  was 
wrapped  in  a  newspaper  under  the  de- 
cayed mattress  upon  which  he  slept. 
And  he  only  waited  a  propitious  moment 
287 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


to  lay  it  and  his  application  before 
Teacher.  Her  new  habit  of  dashing 
away  at  the  stroke  of  three  had  hitherto 
interfered  with  his  plan,  but  about  a  week 
after  Gertie's  arrest  he  found  courage  to 
elude  the  janitor,  and  to  make  his  way  to 
Room  18  at  a  quarter  past  eight  in  the 
morning. 

And  Miss  Bailey  arriving — pale,  dis- 
traught, and  heavy-eyed — at  eight  twenty- 
five,  found  the  lost  purse  lying  upon  her 
blotter,  and  Isidore  Cohen  ready  with  the 
speech  of  presentation. 

"Mine  auntie,"  it  began — he  had 
never  had  an  aunt — 4 4  she  don't  needs 
this  pocket-book  no  more.  You  can 
have  it." 

Miss  Bailey  dropped  into  her  chair. 
"Isidore!"  cried  she.  "Oh,  Isidore! 
You're  the  cleverest  boy!  I  would  rather 
have  this  bag  than  anything  else  in  the 
world." 

288 


A  BENT  TWIG 


A  moment  later  her  joy  was  gone  again. 
The  bag  was  absolutely  empty,  and  Con- 
stance Bailey  did  some  of  the  keenest 
thinking  of  her  career. 

"It  would  be  quite  perfect,"  said  she, 
"if  I  only  had  a  few  little  things  in  it. 
Perhaps  a  transfer,  a  lace  collar,  or  some 
pieces  of  paper" — she  caught  the  gleam 
in  Isidore's  rabbit  eye,  and  amended 
quickly — "not  money,  of  course.  It 
would  be  foolish  to  carry  money  in  a  bag 
like  this" — the  gleam  vanished — "but 
just  a  few  papers  and  things  would  seem 
more  natural." 

"Stands  somethings  like  that  to  my 
house,"  Isidore  vouchsafed  generously. 
"Mine  auntie  don't  needs  them  too." 

"Then  perhaps,"  said  Constance  Bailey 
carefully,  "perhaps,  dear,  your  aunt 
would  let  me  have  them." 

"I  likes,"  said  Isidore,  dashing  off  at 
an  unmistakably  natural  tangent,  "I 
289 


LITTLE  ALIENS 


likes  I  shall  be  monitors  maybe  off  of 
somethings." 

Miss  Bailey  felt  the  teeth  of  the  trap, 
but  she  knew  that  her  hand  was  touching 
the  very  life  of  Gertie  Armusheffsky,  and 
she  made  no  effort  to  escape.  "And 
what  sort  of  a  monitor  would  you  like  to 
be?"  she  asked  casually. 

"Off  of  supplies,"  was  his  decided 
answer. 

"I  think  that  could  be  arranged,"  she 
replied.  "And  these  little  things  to  put 
in  my  bag?" 

"I  could  to  git  'em  'fore  the  other  kids 
comes  in,"  said  Isidore. 

And  a  few  moments  later  she  had  ob- 
tained leave  of  absence  from  the  principal, 
and  was  buttoning  her  gloves  while  she 
gave  her  final  instructions  to  the  substi- 
tute who  would  minister  until  luncheon 
hour  to  the  First  Readers. 

"I'm  quite  sure  you  will  have  no 
290 


A  BENT  TWIG 

trouble.  The  children  understand  that  I 
shall  be  back  in  the  afternoon.  If  you 
want  pencils,  paper,  or  anything  else, 
Isidore  Cohen  will  get  them  for  you.  For 
Isidore" — and  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
narrow  head — * '  Isidore  is  monitor  of  sup- 
plies." 

Very  late  that  afternoon  a  disillusioned 
monitor  of  supplies  fared  unostentatiously 
homeward  from  Room  18.  He  had  never 
met  candor  equal  to  Miss  Bailey's,  and 
he  was  in  the  grip  of  the  paralyzing  con- 
viction that  for  as  long  as  he  remained 
within  her  sphere  of  influence,  honesty 
would  be  the  only  expedient  policy. 


291 


